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HE YANKEE 




IN QUEBEC 



S6e 

YANKEE IN QUEBEC 



BY 

ANSON A. GARD 

author of 

My Friend Bill 

National Hymn to the Flag 

The Cuban Battle Hymn 

Some Deed of Worth 

Etc., Etc. 



^ 



Published by 

THE i:mi:rson press 

149 Broadway, New York 

ANSON A. GARD 
Quebec and Montreal 

AND 

London, England 



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5 
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By transf'^'* 
The White Ho- - 
March 3rd, 1^/f 



DEDICATED 

TO 

THE OTHER YANKEES 

who may follow my footsteps into that dearest^ 

quaintest, most picturesque, most — 

well get Webster and copy 

them all in— for they 

all belong 

TO QUEBEC , 

where I had the most delightful visit of 
my life, in the Summer of iQoi . 



Registered in confoimity with Act of the Parliament of 
Canada, in the year 1901. by Anson A. Gabd, in the 
office of the Minister of Agriculture at Ottawa. 



/^■-j'iUi^ 






Tntroauction 



It is not my purpose to give the history of 
Quebec, Sir James M. LeMoine, the Grand Old 
Man of the Dominion, has done that too well to 
leave anything to say ; neither is it my purpose 
to write a guide book, Frank Carrel, the able 
editor of the Telegraph, and E. T. .D. Chambers, 
whose literary writings are well known in the 
States, have supplied this want. 

I would simply have you use my eyes, 
through which to see one of the most pictur- 
esque old cities in the Western World. I said 
" one of " — unnecessary words, take them away, 
they are out of place, when speaking of Quebec. 

I may not in this volume follow the true lines 
of literature. I will try not to do so at least. 
So dear reader if you find any of the set rules 
5 



Inttodudion, 

broken, just credit me up with that much, if 
nothing more. 

My object will have been attained, if I can 
produce a little volume, whose reading, by my 
countrymen, will turn the tourist toward this 
delightful old city, knowing full well that every 
one so influenced will ever thank me for 

" The Yankee in Quebec." 



Cbe Vankee in Quebec 



He wasn't born in Kentucky, neither was he 
old enough to have been in the war, yet we 
always called him *' Colonel." His other name 
was Horatius, and '' Col. Horatius" seemed 
to fit, so we let it go at that. I never knew just 
why the Colonel had left the States for Quebec. 
Some said, that being very patriotic, he had left 
for the good of his country. Be that as it may, 
I am indebted to him for the " best time " I've 
ever had, and I'm not going to say a word 
'' agin" the Colonel, even if I could. 

" Come to Quebec, Rube, I'll show you the 
quaintest, most picturesque, most delightfully 
charming old city in America!" The Colonel 
used a large number of other adjectives in his 
letter of invitation, and while I thought, at the 
time, he was a little '^ off," I have learned by 
reality that instead, his use of that part of speech 
is very meagre indeed. But I don't blame the 

7 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Colonel, even Webster himself would have had 
to invent new adjectives had he visited this dear 
old town before writing his " story of words." 

At the time I received the Colonel's letter of 
invitation, my conception of Quebec was a small 
round spot on the map. I knew that it was on 
a river called the St. Lawrence, but had to 
refer to the aforesaid map to determine on 
which side of the river. 'Tis true, I had seen 
pictures of the city, with men climbing impos- 
sible hills, with other men on top of the heights 
shooting down at the climbers, but I knew 
naught of enough to warrant a trip of over five 
hundred miles, and all the adjectives in the 
Colonel's meagre vocabulary were necessary to 
give courage for the start. But once here, I 
ceased to wonder why men by the names of 
Wolfe, Montgomery, Arnold and a host of 
others, had been so desirous of getting into 
Quebec. 

In taking a trip for pleasure never go direct 
to your objective point, if there be aught worth 
seeing by the way. I found much to sec but as 
soon as I reached the Province of Quebec, I 
found a great deal that I couldn't understand, 
more especially the language. My French 
education had once been attempted, but after 
many years, all that " stuck " was " Parley voo 
francy " and a few other words quite as useful. 

8 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
"La Meme Chose." 

I remembered meant '^ the same thing," and 
Hke a child just learning to talk, I was anxious 
for an occasion to use it. It soon came. 
Seated one day at a hotel table, where English 
was a dead language, I was given a few of the 
preliminaries, but soon wanted more, as I was 
very hungry that day. A gentleman at my 
right gave an order, as I thought, and I proudly 
said to the pretty waitress. " La meme chosen 
She went away smiling, but as she brought 
nothing for us, I succeeded finally in asking my 
" rescuer " to the right, what he had ordered. 
^' I zay to ze mamsell, I wants nutting more " — 
and I had been waiting for '' La meme chose.'' 
Boulanger. 

On my arrival in one of the cities I found 
myself caught with a very old joke. On all the 
bread waggons I noticed *' Boulanger," 
" Well," thought I, *' this Boulanger fellow 
must be a very wealthy baker to run so many 
wagons," but I was no worse than Doc. Brough 
of Boston, the day he went through the great 
Notre Dame Church, in Montreal, with a 
number of his friends. He noticed on so many 
seats '' A Louer." '^ Say, boys," said Doc, 
'' this Mr. Louer must run a whole children's 
aid society and a female college, to need so 

9 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

many pews," Doc. and I learned a few things 
after we had been in Canada a short while, 
among others I learned that *' Boulanger" was 
" Baker," and Doc. that " A Louer," was " To 
Let." 

" I beg your pardon !" 

What will most try your good-nature 
possibly, is to sit at table, with " French at a 
glance," and laboriously pick out what you 
want to order, and when at last you have framed 
your sentence to your own satisfaction, to have 
some pretty little waitress, who has stood smil- 
ing at you during the whole efTort, sweetly say 
to you, the one single English sentence that she 
knows : " I beg your pardon !" which, trans- 
lated, means, '' Try again." When I told this 
to the Colonel he said he was glad it didn't 
always hold good, as, said he : "A big fellow 
stepped on my toes the other night in a crowd, 
' I beg your pardon!' said he — but I didn't want 
him to try it over." 

Rube wants a Cuiller. 

Worse still, however, may be the one who 
thinks she grasps your meaning. One day at 
dinner, I wanted a spoon, which I remembered 
was " cuiller " in French, so I called for 
" cuiller," but was surprised to have the waitress 

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The Yankee in Quebec. 

bring me a beefsteak, she having thought I said 
" cuir/' which is French for leather. The mis- 
take in this case consisted in her misunderstand- 
ing my word. There may be much tenderness 
in Canada, but in the country hotels, beefsteak 
is not on the hst. This absence does ngt apply 
to the cities, where the " tables " are all that one 
could wish. French may be spoken more up 
here, but you'll notice that '' Scotch " is spoken 
oftener. — (Key to this furnished ou application). 

WHAT YOU SEE BY THE WAY. 

One of the first things you will note in 
passing through Canada, especially so, if you 
are farmer born, will be the long narrow fields, 
many of them not over 200 feet wide, with all 
the farm buildings at one end, facing on the 
main road, for that matter all roads are 
" main," and very few of them. This is no 
doubt a good plan, for it takes off the loneliness of 
country life, and makes of the farming district 
one long village. Your notion of Canada may 
be a vast, well wooded country. This may have 
once been true, and far from the railroads is 
yet so, but the devastation of the timber, in 
many districts, has been so great that farmers 
have to drive eight and ten miles for their fire- 
wood, which they gather in the autumn in 
neighborhood " wood parties." 
II 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Whether by long custom, or some other 
reason, the farmers plow their fields in little 
" lands," not over a rod wide, leaving a dead 
furrow between. One seldom sees a field of 
wheat; and corn never, at any rate not in this 
Province. There may be a system of farming 
here, but it will never be adopted by our people. 
I have seen in a five acre field, oats, barley, rye, 
timothy and potatoes, all growing side by side. 
Yet for all this seeming lack of system I am told 
that the '' habitant " (French farmer) is often a 
man of means, and seldom poor. He may 
make but little, yet he always lays by a part of 
that little. We sell our hay by the ton, here it 
is gathered into bundles of fifteen pounds, 
bound with a " hay twist," and sold, so much 
per hundred bundles. So expert is the hay 
maker that he can guess, within a few ounces at 
furthest, of the requisite fifteen pounds. The 
farm waggon is usually a two-wheeled cart 
drawn, by one horse. This '' cart" is farm 
wagon, road wagon and buggy all in one. The 
maisons (houses) of the habitant are all after one 
pattern, mostly one story. The roofs are 
seldom straight, the rafters are cut with a 
" dish" so that a line drawn from the cone to 
the eaves would not touch the roof at any part, 
and within three feet of the eaves, it might be 
eight inches from the shingles or the " thatch." 

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The Yankee in Quebec. 

The housewife usually surrounds her dwelling 
with pretty flowers, so that while the maison may 
not be architecturally beautiful, it is homelike, 
and gives one a feeling of comfort. The 
people in their simple way seem to be content 
and happy, which in the end is better, no doubt, 
than our great advancement (?) in country life. 




We took a ride one day. 

where we vie with the cities and always keep in 
debt. 

With the habitant it is not all work. The 
long winter nights are filled with much of joy 
and merry making. 

The description I gave in " My Friend Bill," 
of '' The Dance in a Barn," although describing 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

the custom of a Pennsylvania mountain com- 
munity, might well have been written of a 
dance in the valley of the Beauport, or many 
another, happy valley along the St. Lawrence. 
See in this picture the genial host standing in 
the open door, greeting some late arrivals. 
Through the doorway you note the cheerful 
room and the merry dancers. You can well 
imagine the ^' fiddler " sitting in some prominent 
place, playing the music that had for a century 
or more set going the feet of generations long- 
forgotten. The fiddler is the one important 
personage of the dance, as he plays and " calls 
ofif," ever keeping time with his foot. No, it is 
not all work — there is much of joy in the 
humble home of the " habitant" in every land 
beneath the sun, and I often think the joy is 
more real than in the homes of those who have 
naught of earth's goods to wish for. 

A beautiful custom these habitants have, in 
the event of the loss by fire of a neighbour's 
house or barn. They will gather in for rniles 
around, on the Sunday following the fire, and 
after mass, set to work and rebuild the house 
or barn, all contributing material or labor and 
in most instances both. In one or two Sun- 
days the building is replaced. And again, the 
loss of a horse or cow is made up by the kind 

14 




BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE '—EspeciaUy when the fiddle's a going- 



The Yankee in Ouebee. 

hearted neighbors, contributing as their means 
will allow. 

]\Iy notion of Canadian weather was mixed 
up with snowshoes and ice palaces, and although 
the Colonel's invitation came in June, the weiglit 
of my baggage was largely due to the heavy 
underwear with which it was loaded down. 
When, however, the thermometer got to playing 
gleefully among the nineties, my notion 
changed, and I felt quite at home in the lightest 
possible clothing. Here's the difference, how- 
ever hot the days, the nights are cool and 
enjoyable. Before I had left Canada, the Que- 
becker had quite convinced me that even winter 
was not only endurable but delightfully enjoy- 
able. — ]\Ioral, never have a notion of any place 
until you get there. 

I reached Quebec in time to see the city cele- 
brate 

" DOMINION DAY," JULY i, 

not with a noisy Fourth of July demonstration, 
but in quiet enjoyment. Flags gave the city a 
gay appearance, and everybody seemed happy. 
The small boy had fired no '' crackers," but he 
went to bed that night with all his fingers intact, 
and was content. I have since noted that this 
day's celebration was indicative of the people. 
Their conception of ''a good time" is not spelled 

1.7 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

" hilarious." From the common laborer to the 
most cultured, they are gentle and courteous in 
their manner toward each other, as well as 
toward the stranger. 

Levis is the *'J^'"sey City" of Quebec. It is 
across the St. Lawrence, which is about as wide 
as the Hudson river at New York City. You 
cross by a small ferry boat, pointed at either 
end, and is entered by footmen and teams, 
through openings in the side. 

The first impression of Quebec is that of a 
great flat rock dropped down upon a plain 2,000 
feet wide, covering about two-thirds of the front 
area, reaching in places almost to the river's 
edge. 

** Here you are at last, Rube," 

was the Colonel's greeting as I got ofif the 
ferryboat down at Dalhousie street. '' I had 
quite given you up, — thought you had gotten 
frozen out and gone back home." The Colonel 
had not forgotten my notion of cold (?) Canada, 
and was using it against me with the ther- 
mometer at 89 in the shade. '' Oh, no," said I, 
mopping my brow, " it may be a little chilly, but 
I come prepared," with a nod at my baggage. 
" No, Colonel, I have been doing the Province 
as I came along, seeing its people, and learning 
French. Why, I started with one sentence of 

i8 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

three words and now I know — " *' How many?" 
broke in the Colonel, who had been here a year 
and didn't know even one. " No matter, you 
wouldn't know if I told you." Then I thought 
of my '' cuir " (pronounced kweer) experience 
at the country hotel and changed the subject. 

From the first day until I left, the Colonel 
kept me on the move. It was just like going 
through an old museum. You look at the out- 
side of the building and feel that it will take but 
a short time to *' do," but when you visit room 
after room, case after case, each case filled with 
objects of interest, time flies unnoted and stili 
there is ever something new to see. So with 
the quaint old city, every turn brings into view 
some object with a history. It may be a thick 
walled building that has stood the fires and 
storms of centuries, or it may be some monu- 
ment to a hero long turned back to mother dust 
No matter what the turn you are sure to finci 
there something worth coming far to see. The 
very vehicles in the narrow streets are found 
nowhere else than in Quebec. The Caleche — a 
two wheeled buggy-like affair, where the driver 
sits on the dashboard while the '"fares" go 
bounding along with the mixed feeling of riding 
camel and a ship in a storm, looks to the 
observer anything but comfortable, especially so 
if the road be rough. 

19 



The Yankee in Quebec. 



The Colonel made me promise that I would 
not tell of a certain caleche ride we took one 
day out a road north-west of Quebec. He 




forgot, though, to 
would not get the 



make me promise that I 
most Racy ("A.G.," of the 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Montreal Star) caricaturist, in Canada, to do it 
for me — No, Colonel, I'll not say a word about 
that ride — T don't need to. 




a 



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a 

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I asked one day why the " drays " are 
so narrow, and was told they were built so to 

21 



The Yankee in Quebec, 

fit the streets. They are simply a two poled 
skid on two wheels and yet they can haul any- 
thing under the sun with them. Speaking of 
the streets, you should see some of them! Ten 
and twelve feet wide ! Why, St. Pierre, (St. 
Peter) the ''Wall Street" of the city, is but a 
rod in width, not' counting the sidewalks — a 
narrow footing, made for two, unless the pedes- 
trians themselves are too '* wide," when they 
must then go Indian file. I asked the Colonel 
one day why there were so many saints on the 
Quebec calendar, and he said he didn't know, 
unless it was that there might be enough names 
for all the streets. As it was, there were not 
enough, by one, to go around. That one is the 
Fifth Avenue of Quebec, and is called the 
Grande Alee — because it is so wide. On this 
Avenue is the Parliament building situated, in 
beautifully kept park-like grounds. Some very 
modern residences are to be seen in this vicinity. 
Le Chien D'Or. 

I had scarcely got well located when the 
Colonel set me to reading Le Chien D'Or (The 
Golden Dog) by Wm. Kirby, " Read this 
book," said he, ''and you will have a good foun- 
dation on which to begin enjoying the old 
town." The advice was good, and I pass it 
along with emphasis. 

Almost the first sentence is : 

22 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
" See Quebec and live forever." 

At the end of my visit I could not but feel that if 
life could continue as delightfully on, I would 
gladly welcome the quotation as a reality. 

'' To-morrow morning we will go at sunrise 
to the heights just outside the Citadel walls, 
where you will get a view the Uke of which you 
have never before seen. It will give you a con- 
ception not only of the city, but the surrounding 
country as well." This from the Colonel, 
whose reputation for early rising was none of 
the best, came, as a greater surprise, when he 
said that the sun rose at 4.10. 

Uiew front Citadel m\\ 



Oh, that view ! It will remain as a lasting 
picture in the gallery of memory. You sweep 
the eye around over hundreds of square miles, 
and in no direction is there aught but that which 
is pleasing. To the north-east, the river 
abruptly widens past the city, from one mile to 
a great bay of five miles in width, and in the 
centre distance, stands boldly out the historic 
23 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
Isle of Orleans. 

To the north, beyond the Beauport Valley, you 
sec in the far distance the Laurentian moun- 
tains, covered with dense forests to their very 
crowns. The Falls of Montmorency are in plain 
view, eight miles away, where the waters fall 
into the St. Lawrence. Following up to the 
west, over this Beauport Valley, your eye moves 
with snail-like motion, for every part is beauti- 
ful. You look it over, and come again and 
again to feast your eyes upon the scene. Here 
and there, over the gently undulating expanse, 
you may count village after village, with their 
ever present church spire. The whole valley is 
dotted by the little white maisons of the habitant, 
making it seem one continuous village. The 
Beauport to the north-west blends into the 
valley of the St. Charles, which reaches away 
toward the Indian village of Lorette, and loses 
itself to sight. To the west, you look across the 
Plains of Abraham, which begin at the western 
wall of the Citadel, and run from St. Louis road 
to the St. Lawrence river, extending to the west, 
almost to Wolfe's cove. Looking over the 
southern wall of the Citadel, almost straight 
down 400 feet to the St. Lawrence, you get a 
view most thrilling. Across the river, and 
beyond Levis — a little city of 10,000 people — 
24 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

your vision reaches to the mountains of Maine, 
sixty miles away. This whole scene is one vast 
circular 

Panarama of Peace. 

Close your eyes and wande.r back for nearly four 
hundred years, and the panorama vaguely 
blends itself into one of war. There in the 
harbor you see slowly sailing in, " the first 
arrivals from the sea" — time 1635 — three small 
ships, under Jacques Cartier, La Grande Hermine, 
La Petite Hermine and VEmerillon, and as the 
time creeps on ,you may see hostile fleets in this 
broad expanse of water, pouring their solid shot 
into the battle-scarred city, whilst almost at your 
very side stands a Frontenac or a Montcalm, 
answering back solid shot, in defiance. Look, 
look in any direction, where you will, on land, 
are marchings and counter marchings, storming 
and beating back, until you seem to be in the 
midst of 

One vast Battle Field. 

You open again your eyes, go out among the 
people, and lose all belief in prenatal influence, 
for a more amiable, peace loving people, I have 
never met, than these children of a race, born, 
and nurtured through centuries of war. 

" Colonel," said I, as soon as I could get back 
to the present, *^ this one morning amply repays 

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The Yankee in Quebec. 

me for the long journey. I have seen many 
places of interest; have looked upon scenes of 
great beauty, in many lands, but thi^ view from 
the Citadel wall of Quebec, pleases me most of 
all." 

The practical Colonel suggested breakfast at 
this point, after which we began seeing Quebec 
proper, or, rather. 

Two Quebecs. 

the Upper and the Lower town. 

The latter is that narrow portion, that skirts 
the river, and runs up against the hill of solid 
rock, which rises at the east, almost straight up 
a hundred or more feet, while the southern por- 
tion, around toward Cape Diamond — on which 
stands the Citadel, — reaches up 350 or more 
feet, and so near to the river, that there is but 
room for one narrow street, with houses — much 
of the way — only on one side. The Upper 
Town, as its name indicates, is all that portion 
on top of the high plateau. 

WHAT WAS THEIR STORY? 

We often watch the passing throng and think 
that each single one of the number has his or 
her life's history. Some lives seem all of joy, 
others all of sadness, and yet how true ; '' Into 
each life some rain must fall." One morning 

26 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

while in this mood of analysing- the faces about 
me, there was sitting on a near-hy Terrace scat, 
one of the most beautiful young women I had 
ever seen. It was not so much the face as 
what was in its cultured expression. She was 
at first alone, and sat contemplating the magnifi- 
cent outlook from the Terrace, but there was 
enacted in quick succession a whole life's drama. 
First, an elderly man came up, and without any 
preliminary words began, " Clarence is here and 
you must consent." " Father," said she, " I 
cannot." " I said must/' and the next moment 
he was gone. His place was taken by a young 
man of an effeminate type. One of those callow 
youths too often found among the scions of the 
rich. He was faultlessly dressed, and had all 
the airs of his type, with none of those qualities 
of manner belonging to the manly man. He 
too began abruptly with a simpering lisp : '' I 
have seen youh fatheh, and he consents." She 
was silent and seemed not to notice the youth, 
who began again, '' Oh, I say, I have seen 
youh fatheh." "Ah — have you ! Very glad, for 
he seems to like you, better go see him again," 
at which she opened a magazine and paid no 
attention to him. " I say, its not faah to tweat 
a fellow like this, when he's so despahately in 
love." "Go away — you annoy me. Why did 
you follow us to Quebec? I thought we had 
27 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

lost you in the Adirondacks." '^ I heard youh 
fatheh say he was going a-fishing and I followed 
youh heah just as soon as I could get out of 
those awful woods." She was oblivious to him, 
and answered none of his questions nor paid the 
slightest attention to his presence and he finally 
left her and walked away. 

Not ten minutes passed until a second young 
man came upon the scene. Unlike the other he 
was the very embodiment of the perfect man, in 
form tall and well proportioned, with a hand- 
some face; but at once I noticed that his hands 
showed that they had known manual labor. 
She was so absorbed in her reading that he 
stood at her very side before she noted his pres- 
ence ; but the moment she looked up and saw 
him, her countenance fairly beamed with joy, 
the next moment her face changed to sadness. 
She began: '*Oh, John, why did you come? 
You know how angry father will be if he sees 
you here — It can never be — go away — each 
time it is harder for me to bear, and yet I must, 
I must." '' Don't say that, Edith, I will bide 
my time. Love such as ours must have but 
one ending." ''Oh, John, you do not know, 
father has just now told me that I must consent 
to marry Clarence, and you know my father's 
determination. I do not like to think it, but 
rich as he is, he is yet mercenary, and Clarence, 
28 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

you know, is to inherit from that old uncle 
fabulous wealth." They had arisen, and at this 
they walked away, still talking earnestly, leaving 
me to think out their life's story — who were 
they? How would it end? Ah me, " Into each 
life some rain must fall." 



" WHERE ?" 

''Where will we begin?" I asked. ''We must 
get through to-morrow, or next day at fur- 
thest." The Colonel only looked at mc and 
smiled, At the end of a month I joined him in 
the " Smile." (" No, not that kind, as the 
Colonel is ' strictly' — save on occasion") for I 
was still " looking " with much of interest still 
unseen. The Colonel produced a long list of 

POINTS OF INTEREST IN AND 
AROUND QUEBEC. 

The Citadel. 
Dufiferin Terrace. 
The Governor's Garden. 
The Church of Notre-Dame des Victoires. 
The EngHsh Cathedral. 
The Grand Battery. 
The Chateau Frontenac. 
29 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

The Archbishop's Palace. 

The BasiHca and Seminary Chapel. 

The Post-Office and Chien D'Or. 

The Chateau St. Louis. 

The Place d'Armes. 

Champlain's Old Fort. 

The Court House. 

The Champlain Monument. 

The Site of the Old Parliament House. 

The Old Jesuit College. 

The Old Market Square. 

The City Hall. 

Laval University. 

The Masonic Hall. 

Where Montcalm died. 

The Ursuline Convent. 

The Esplanade. 

The City Gates and Fortifications. 

The Hotel Dieu — a hospital. 

The City Palace of Bigot. 

St. Roch's. 

Literary and Historical Society. 

The Churches. 

The Parliament House. 

The Drill Hall. 

Places of Execution. 

The Grande AUee, 

Wolfe's Monument. 

The Plains of Abraham. 

30 



The Yankee in Quebec . 

Cemeteries. 

Public Institutions. 

The St. Foye Monument. 

Fort Jacques Cartier. 

Gale's Old Curiosity Shop, No. 2y St. Stanis- 
las Street. 

Chateau Bigot and Charlesbourg. 

Beauport. 

The Falls of Montmorency. 

La Bonne Ste. Anne. 

Indian Lorette. 

Cap Rouge. 

Isle of Orleans. 

Chaudiere Falls. 

Lake St. Joseph. 

Lake Edward. 

Drives Around Quebec. 

Lake Beauport. 

I read over the list and wondered if he'd left 
out anything. *'Oh yes, there are many things 
you'll see by the way, which the Carrels and 
Chambers overlooked in their guide books, or 
did not think of enough interest to put in, and 
you will wonder why they missed them. There 
are often things you never see in guide books, 
that please you more than what is on the list. 
Why, Rube, the great Sir LeMoine, has written 
no less than fourteen books on Quebec and its 
environs, and they are all entertaining. 

31 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Scarcely a spot in this old city but what could 
* a tale unfold.' Come, Rube, what on the list 
do you want to do first?" "Well, in this case," 
said I, '' since the ' last ' cannot be ' first ' as it 
is too far out for to-day, let's change the pro- 
gramme and see 

The Citadel. 



The sentinel at the gate must have known the 
Colonel, for he sent four or five of his picked 
men along, to see that he (the Col.) did not 
carry off any of the ordnance, that being all 
there was in sight to carry, but the men were 
sent all the same, and they very courteously 
showed us about. I never was good at detailed, 
description, and I don't propose beginning on 
the Citadel. For that matter, however, there's 
nothing to describe, but a barren, flat, rocky 
expanse of some 40 acres, walled in, with 200 
soldiers to show tourists around, during the 
day, and have a good time at the Terrace 
Concerts with the girls, in the evening. 

There wasn't a single incident, until we 
reached that little cannon where the guides all 
stop and the spokesman clears his throat, 
throws out his chest, strikes an attitude, and 
tells you, pompous like : 

32 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

" This is the gun we took from you Yankees 
at Bunker Hill" 

That sort o' made me want to answer up 
sharp Hke, and I started in, but only got as far 
as : '' Yes, you took the cannon ; but we — " 
when the Colonel stopped me short off. He 
told me — when we got outside, — " I tell you, 
Rube, you came within an ace of making a fool 
of yourself. Why, that old joke is nearly as 
ancient as the cannon itself. Every Yankee 
who comes here gets it off, and imagines that 
he is the very first to think of it. That's why 
all those soldiers came along. They sized you 
up, and knew you'd ' fall in.' " " Well, I don't 
care," said I, " I got even with them on those 

Dinky Caps. 

didn't I ?" You see I asked the Colonel, low 
like : " Say, Horatius, why does the government 
make these handsome young soldiers wear that 
No. 3 cap on a No. 6 head ?" I thought I had 
said it low like, but they all heard it, and jumped 
at me as though I was a Boer outside of his 
rifle pit, and wanted to know what I meant by 
that insult to the " dinky." " Gentlemen," said 
I, scared like, '' I take it all back — I apologize, 
I didn't mean it — I meant, why does your gov- 
ernment make you wear a No. 6 cap on a No. 3 

33 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

head ?" "Ah, young man 'tis well, 'tis well you 
did not insult the cap." 



That evening we went out on 

Dufferin Terrace 

the like of which cannot be seen anywhere in the 
world. It overhangs the cliff almost 200 feet 
above the St. Lawrence. It is an immense 
board walk, nearly a third of a mile in length, 
and in places nearly 100 feet wide. It is called 
Dufferin from the popular Governor-General 
whose regime in the seventies so changed the 
whole of Quebec, beautifying the old and adding 
to the new. Twice a week a most excellent 
band from the garrison under the leadership of 
Mr. Joseph Vezina renders a programme of 
music in a manner that would do credit to a 
Sousa. The beauty and fashion of Quebec 
come out by the thousands to listen to the 
music, as they promenade up and down the 
Terrace. There is no jostling, no loud talking, 
no flirting. 

The Colonel says the Quebec Girls don't flirt, 

and the Colonel is authority, or I thought he 
was. The girls themselves say that the Colonel 
don't give them a chance. 

34 



TJic Yankee in Quebec. 

As we walked away to the further end of the 
Terrace, I asked where those steps led, up there 
along the Citadel wall. '' I'll show you to- 
morrow," said the Colonel, " which is better 
than telling you." We were out early. From 
the Terrace we start2d up a long flight of stairs, 
sort of a 

Jacob's Ladder, 

just like going to your office in a New York 
Sky Scraper on Sunday, when the elevator boy 
is off fishing. After going up, up, up until you 
get tired counting the steps, you find yourself 
almost level with the Citadel top, then you stop 
to rest and get a view up the St. Lawrence that 
pays for the long climb. You can see almost 
to the turn of the river, five miles away, to 
where the five million dollar bridge is being 
built by the Quebec Bridge Company. You 
come to the end of this elevated walk at the 
south-west wall of the Citadel, where you find 
before you 

THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM. 

*' You cannot but note here," said I, *' the 
appropriateness of things. You have to> climb 
Jacob's Ladder to reach Abraham's Plains." 

" Yes, but this historic ground was not named 
after that kind of an 'Abraham,' " replied the 

37' 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Colonel, '' he was a Scotchman. LeMoine is 
my authority, and I can give no better. He 
tells us that they were named for Abraham 
Martin, from Scotland, and were once much 
more extensive than their present area of 80 
acres. As soon as you can find the time you 
will do well to read this same authority on the 
great battle fought here between Generals 
Wolfe and Montcalm. It is as thrilling as a 
novel. Can you see over there, that stone 
shaft? that is 

The Wolfe Monument, 

and marks the spot where the great English 
General fell, on September 13th, 1759, but 
heard, before he died, that he had won a signal 
victory over the French General Montcalm, who 
was mortally wounded in the same battle, and 
died the next day. Look across to the south- 
west, through those woods, to the river. There 
we will find 

Wolfe's Cove, 

where the General landed the morning of the 
great battle." A few minutes' walk brought us 
to the " Cove," Along up the St. Lawrence 
for miles the shores are continuous bluffs, with 
here and there a passage way down to the river. 
These places are called Coves. One of these, 

38 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

the nearest to the city, was used by General 
Wolfe as the landing place, from his ships, the 
morning of the battle. All along, as far west as 
Sillery, three miles from Quebec, are the ruins 
of houses, factories and piers, showing a once 
prosperous era in the history of the city, as a 
shipping and ship-building centre. At Sillery, 
or a little to the west, this changes, and in the 
Cove where Dobell & Company have their great 
booms and timber interests, we find a thriving 
community. Everything seems prosperous. It 
is near here that we find Holmwood, the resi- 
dence of Mr. Dobell's genial partner, Mr. L. 
Evans. Here also is the home of the Hon. 
John Sharpies, another large timber merchant. 
It is in Sillery Cove where, in 1637, was built 
the Manor House, which still stands — the oldest 
house about Quebec. From Sillery east to the 
City, it is one continuous line of desolation, 
from the top of the blufif, to the river's edge, but 
on the plateau running to the precipitous bluff 
and westward, are some magnificent old country 
seats, along the St. Louis road. 

We go on to a long straggling village called 

SILLERY, 

on the north shore of the river, three miles west 
from Quebec. Here are the Protestant and 
Catholic 



39 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
Cemeteries, 

with their old monuments interspersed among 
the modern blocks of marble. The grounds 
are well kept and beautifully shaded. This 
quaint old town has little of interest to the 
passing observer, but when the volumes of his- 
tory are thrown open, he finds that almost every 
foot he treads is historic ground. 

It is such places as Sillery, that makes one 
feel, in attempting to write of them, the meagre- 
ness of space. Here is an old town — nothing 
in its modern self — so full of ancient worth, 
that one feels as though doing it an injustice, to 
pass it with a single page. To the reader who 
has not yet seen Quebec, and knows not of the 
mines of interest, to the student of ancient lore, 
to be found here, I can but say that this little 
country village, contains more than I had once 
thought was to be found in the whole city itself. 
And this is but an instance. Go in any direc- 
tion you may, the same conditions prevail. 
Would that every school teacher in America 
could spend her vacation here, as I know of no 
place where that vacation could be passed with 
as much real profit to herself, and her pupils, 
as Quebec and its environs. 

*' Come, come, Rube," said the Colonel, who 
had been trying to decipher some old inscrip- 
40 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

tion for the past half hour: ''You won't have 
time for all that moralizing if you are to get 
away to-morrow or next day at farthest." He 
never would get through talking about my first 
intention of getting away " To-morrozv'' ; and 
week after week, kept bringing it up, whenever 
I stopped too long over something he had often 
seen. 



On the way back to the city we passed two of 
the remaining 

Martello Towers, 

near the Plains of Abraham. They are circular 
forts, and look not unlike a flaring top bucket 
turned upside down, and about as useful now, 
as the bucket in the above condition, although 
$15,000 each was used in their construction. 
Like many another defensive pile, however, they 
were once useful, before the modern engines of 
oflfence came in. 

Not far away are the 

Buttes-au-Nevue, 

formerly used for the execution place of crimi- 
nals, but now that Quebec has an average of but 
one execution in fifteen years, they don't need 

41 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

any special place for that work. Somehow, if 
I may use the bull, 

They reclaim their murderers before they kill 
anybody. 

We pass on the way in, at the western border 
of the city, a fine drill hall, and the old skating 
rink, which, since the burning of the one theatre 
of the city, two years ago, has been used as a 
place of amusement. 

Since writing the foregoing the City of 
Quebec has acquired the Plains of Abraham, 
and are to convert it into a park. The highest 
skill in landscape gardening will be called into 
requisition, and in the years to come there will 
be on these historic hills one of the most beau- 
tiful parks in all the land. The situation is 
ideal, and every spot being fraught with conti- 
nental interest, thousands will visit it from all 
parts of the world, for no spot is more of a world 
Mecca than these old Plains. 



CHURCHES. 

While the places of amusement are few, the 
churches are many, both Protestant and Catho- 
lic, and are well attended. Some of them date 
back over two hundred years. The Church of 
42 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Notre-Dame des Victoires, built in 1688, was so 
named to celebrate the victories over Sir 
William Phipps and the destruction by storm, of 
Sir Hovendon Walker's fleet, which was on its 
way to bombard Quebec, in 1711. The manner 
of soldiers attending service is usually very 
enlivening, as they are preceeded by the garri- 
son brass band. 

The most beautiful church in Quebec is St. 
John's, as viewed from the exterior. The 
Basilica has the finest interior. Not far from 
St. John's is St. Matthew's, whose Rector is the 
brilliant young poet, Rev. Frederick Geo. Scott, 
Here rest the bones of a brother of Sir Walter 
Scott, Major Thomas Scott, and those of other 
notables of the long ago. 

In some of the churches the customs were 
very odd to me. One in particular where you 
are shown to your seat by a man whom you 
will at once take for a brigadier general in full 
uniform. As seats were at a premium the day 
the Colonel and I attended this particular 
church, I sought out this high dignitary and 
addressed him: "General, have you any vacan- 
cies ?" The title had its effect, and we were 
shown the best he had, and after service, the 
finest pictures and other things of interest, were 
pointed out to us by him. Moral: If you would 

43 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

be shown attention use a title if there is a pos- 
sible excuse for it. 

Moral Quebec. 

I have never seen so moral a place as Quebec. 
As before mentioned, there has been but one 
murder committed in this city, of over 80,000 
inhabitants, during the past fifteen years. Not 
only is Quebec remarkably free from crimes, 
but the whole Province of over 1,000 miles long 
and hundreds of miles wide. During 1900, in 
this vast area, there were but 463, all told, com- 
mitted to the penitentiary at St. Vincent de 
Paul, and of that number but five of them for 
murder. Drunkenness is so rare, that arrests, 
for that cause are seldom made, unless it be 
that of sailors from ships in the harbor. The 
city is patrolled by 68 policemen, and only half 
that number are on duty at the same time, and 
have little to do at that. They are a fine body 
of men, very polite and kind to strangers. Pos- 
sibly the instance that will best illustrate the 
honesty of this people, is that one may forget 
and leave an umbrella in a public place on a 
rainy day, and hours after return and find it un- 
touched. The Colonel says he knows places 
where such forgetfulness would be attended by 
difl"erent results. I did not ask if he had any 
special locality in mind. 

44 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
A lesson for the United States. 

We m the States might well take a lesson 
from Canada. We wait until a man becomes a 
criminal, and then make a great effort, spending 
vast sums of money, to reclaim him. Here 
they " reclaim " him before he needs it. At an 
age when our waifs are learning crime in all its 
intricate branches, the poor boys here are in 
schools — clothed and supported by the various 
churches, not alone Catholic, but Protestant as 
well. They may not spend so much on magnfii- 
cent churches (although some of them are 
beautiful) as we, but they do certainly get better 
moral results. 

While on this subject of church I must tell 
you of our visit to 

STE. ANNE DE BEAUPRE. 

Heretofore, when I had heard of the miracul- 
ous cures at this church, I was under the impres- 
sion that it was located in the North Eastern 
part of New York City, and this is the impres- 
sion that generally prevails — at least in that city, 
where there is a little Ste. Anne. But the great 
Ste. Anne is on the St. Lawrence, 21 miles down 
the north shore of the river from Quebec. It is 
visited by tens — I might say hundreds of thou- 
sands annually. Pilgrimages, composed, some- 
times of 1,000 or more, are of almost daily 

45 



The Yankee in Quebec . 

occurrence, throughout the warmer months of 
the year, while no visitor to Quebec thinks of 
going away, without first having seen La Bonne 
Ste. Anne. The day we went down, the Colonel 
had a small pilgrimage of his own to look after. 

There were General Frank M , Judge 

P and their families from C , Ohio, 

■and a number of teachers from Wisconsin. We 
left on a very early train and all the way down 
were exercised as to the possibility of getting 
breakfast, but on reaching there found that with 
nineteen hotels to select from, we need not 
return hungry. 

Origin. 

One wonders that a church should have been 
erected in so desolate and in so isolated a spot 
as this, but the Enigma is plain when one hears 

the story of how, early in i6 a small crew of 

Breton mariners were near being shipwrecked, 
when they made a vow that if La Bonne Ste. 
Anne would save them from the storm, they 
would erect, in her honor, a church on the spot 
where they reached the land. They were not 
lost, and their vow was made good, by the erec- 
tion of a small wooden chapel at their landing 
place. This was replaced by a larger one in 
1660, and it in turn by the magnificent one of 
stone, that now occupies the spot. 

46 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
That Miracles are yet performed, 

seems not to be doubted. On either side of the 
church entrance are piles of crutches, and other 
cripple paraphernalia, that reach almost to the 
ceiling. These have been discarded, from time 
to time, by devout pilgrims, who no longer had 
need to use them. Near by are several little 
chapels — one a fac simile of the original, and 
just beyond is the chapel of the '' praying 
stairs." A long and broad flight of steps, reach- 
ing from near the front entrance to the second 
story. The pilgrim begins at the first step, 
kneeling and saying a prayer for each one, until 
he has reached the top. Such humiliation 
certainly deserves reward. Inside the great 
church, masses are being said for the benefit of 
the various pilgrimages (there were four this 
day) who have come to worship. 

A more impressive sight I have never seen, 

than the marching of one of these long proces- 
sions, as it encircles the wide plaza in front of — - 
and then enters — the church, carrying banners 
and singing as only a thousand enthusiastic 
devotees can sing. It is beautiful and inspir- 
ing. Ste. Anne is reached by the Electric Rail- 
road. 



47 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

The Colonel's Ohio friends remained in 
Quebec for several days, enjoying the old town. 

One morning while " doing " Little Cham- 
plain Street, we continued on past the great 
" land slide " — where about one hundred yards 
of the hill swept down, a few years ago, across 
the street, carrying houses and everything before 
it, burying a number of persons who were 
passing at the time. Just beyond, we came to 
the large board sign, far up the side of the 
almost perpendicular clifif on which is seen in 
large letters : 

Where Montgomery Fell. 

Miss P., looking up at it, most innocently 
said : ^' I don't wonder that he fell, but I do 
wonder how he ever got up there." 

Recently the date of General Montgomery's 
assault and death was questioned, by Dr. 
Kingsford, in a work on Canada. He maintain- 
ed that the General attempted his famous assault 
on the morning of January ist, 1776, in which 
he was instantly killed. The Doctor had not 
counted on the ardent defender of Quebec 
history, when he thus attempted to change 
facts. Sir James LeMoine at once brought to 
bear such an array of proof, that it all transpired 
on the morning of December 31st, 1775, that 
the date will possibly never again be questioned. 



The Yankee in Qtiehcc. 
Fairy Tales. 

If some of the heroes of those stirring times 
had died in as many places as are pointed out 
as that in which they last saw the light of day, 
one would be led to think of the animal of the 
many lives. One enterprising inn-keeper will 
tell you that " This is the very room in which 
Montcalm died," and prove it by an oil painting 
which he has recently had done, showing the 
great General in modern uniform, surrounded by 
members of the Red Cross Society, who are 
doing their utmost to keep him alive, until he 
can be taken to a small shop near by, where 
you are told that : *' Here is where the dear 
General Montcalm died," and then follows a full 
history of the sad event. This is enterprise! 



When the Colonel's friends had gone he was 
so homesick that I had to take him out and 
away from the city, to sort o' distract his mind. 
*' Let's see that list again," said I — taking it and 
reading it over. " Montmorency, — no, we'll 
save that for another day. Oh! here is one that 



sounds all right. 



INDIAN LORETTE, 



and we've just got time to catch the St. John 
train out to it. Eight miles through a beautiful 



49 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

valley, which I never tire of looking at." All 
the way out the Colonel was telling me about 
the Huron Indians (over 300 of them) who lived 
there and made baskets, moccasins and did all 
sorts of work, but hard work, which the Colonel 
said they very much disliked, and never did, 
even though given large orders to fill. He said 
some of the young girls were very beautiful, and 
that if princesses were in order, would make fine 
ones. Just at this point we reached Indian 
Lorette and I looked out of the window — " See, 
see. Colonel, your beautiful Indian Princesses, 
now on the station platform there! Why, you 
didn't half describe them — I've not seen such a 
lot of pretty girls, at one place, since I came to 
Canada !" On the platform was our old friend 
Major O'SuUivan. The Colonel sort o' hung 
back, while I began enthusiastically congratu- 
lating the Major on the beautiful Indian 
Princesses of Lorette — " Thim .'" said the Major 
nodding toward the crowd of pretty girls, ''Thim, 
why, they'r 

Summer boorders from Quebec. '^ 

I treated the Colonel real cool after that for half 
an hour, and he deserved it ! Lorette is as 
pretty and picturesque as its name. It has its 
falls, which, though not as large as Mont- 
morency, yet are very fine. We visited the 

50 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Indian village — a little settlement, where the 
houses are dropped down as you would pour 
out of a basket a lot of blocks. No streets, 
although it is all street, save where the houses 
set. The oddest town you ever saw. It's 
worth the trip if you could see nothing else. We 
were especially fortunate in reaching the Indian 
Catholic church just as two visiting Grey Nuns 
were being shown the rare 

Gold Embroidered Vestments, 

of inestimable value, made by the ladies of the 
Court of King Louis XIV, and presented to the 
Huron tribe at that time. For the great favor 
of getting to see these gems, we were indebted 
to Major O'SuUivan, whose wife — a woman of 
rare culture — the only remaining daughter of 
the late Chief Tahourenche ("The Break of Day") 
stands high in church circles. 

Near the town, or quite in the limits, is one of 
the remaining, if not the remaining, herd of wild 
buffalo in Canada, As I looked at those shaggy 
animals I ran back in mind to the time I once 
hunted them on the plains of Kansas. I had 
to tell the Colonel about the day 

I shot my first buffalo. 

After graphically describing to him that day's 
hunt, how I stealthily crept upon the monster, 

51 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

until within twenty yards, before I shot him, he 
quietly asked carelessly : "Did you kill the 
bufifalo ?" " Now, see here. Colonel," said I, 
riled like, '' you heard me say plainly, I shot the 
beast, and you should let it stop right there. I 
shot him, and would have done it again, were 
it not that by the time he had got through 
running in one direction and I in the other, we 
were too far apart." Some men do so love to 
spoil a good story ! 

I asked the Colonel if the Indians owned these 
buffaloes. '' No, an Indian is not much on the 
own — he hardly owns himself. No, these be- 
long to a firm in Quebec, named Holt, Renfrew 
and Co." " What, do you mean the great 
furriers near the Basilica, where you said every- 
body went to get furs — furst, then saw the city 
afterward ?" '' Yes, yes, but. Rube, you must 
break yourself of that awful habit. It's not 
popular up here. Furs, furst .'" scornfully. His 
cold stare made me shiver, then turn warm. I 
told him so when he perpetrated a worse one 
than mine, in three words — 

Shive, Furs, Warm. 

We fortunately met the Indian agent, Mr. 
A. O. Bastien, whose Huron name is Wasen- 
darolen, which translated back into English 
means '' The man who talks," To this fact we 

52 



The Yankee in Quebec, 




I went to Canada with the blossoms of spring and remained 
till snow fell. 



This picture is run in at this point to sort "' cool off the weather for 
subsequent summer readers, or to remind them of furs, I really don't know 
which, but in either case you mustn't believe half this artist tells them 



53 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

were given much interesting information about 
the Huron tribe — once a warHke race, but now 
a most peaceful one, since most are Good 
Indians. 

We met Poo Bah. 

We also met the railroad agent, the road con- 
tractor, the postmaster, the manufacturer, the 
general store keeper and village magistrate. His 
name in Japanese would be Poo Bah, but in 
Lorette, it is Henry Ross. Now, as I was a 
Ross myself, about ten generations ago, I was 
delighted to know that this cousin was doing 
so well, — officially. 

By the time we had done Lorette the Colonel 
had gotten back his spirits and we returned from 
this, one of our best trips. Don't miss it when 
you come to Quebec. 



The next day it poured rain, but we '^ dodged 
between drops " or were driven when it was too 
severe, to visit 

The Ursuline Convent. 

The Laval University. 

The Basilica. 

The English Cathedral. 

The Hotel-Dieu. 

54 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

The Literary and Historical Society, and 
other places in the city where the seeing was 
on the inside. 

THE URSULINE CONVENT, 

is very old, dating back to 1639. It has gone 
through a fiery ordeal, having been destroyed 
by that element first in 1650 and again in 1686. 
In the old chapel was pointed out the grave of 
General Montcalm, who was buried there on the 
evening of September 14'th, 1759. His grave 
was dug by a strange grave digger. A shell 
had exploded within the chapel walls, and 
excavated a deep hole in the rocky floor, in 
which he was laid to rest. 

The Guide Books of both Chambers and 
Carrel, in speaking of this old convent, refer to 
its most interesting feature as its chapel, which 
reminds me that I was fortunate to have reached 
Quebec in time to see it, as it was entirely 
demolished during my stay in the city, and a 
modern building was going up when I left. 
There is to me a rare fascination simply in look- 
ing upon the grave of a hero. The mortal part 
of him who was great, may long ago have moul- 
dered away, and what I may see is nought but 
ground, and yet I am held to the spot by 
memory of what that ground once covered. The 
hero may not have died a Victor, what matter, 

55 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

he was still a Hero. Especially is this true if 
that hero were good — as well as brave — Mont- 
calm was both. The chapel that long marked 
his resting place is gone and may soon be for- 
gotten, but that which is more enduring than 
stone will make this old site sacred ground, 
for here will ever cling the memory of Montcalm. 

The Laval University. 

Named for the great Laval, was but glanced 
through that day. It required a subsequent 
full day to do it even partial justice. I won't 
here try to faintly describe it, it must be seen ; 
its art gallery carefully gone over ; its library of 
100,000 volumes — not to mention the rare and 
very valuable manuscripts — passed through ; 
its thousands of rare specimens ol mineralogy ; 
and its vast collection of stuffed birds, fishes, 
and.... well, see it; then go to the observatory 
on the top, where, next to the Citadel walls, you 
will have the best view of the Upper and Lower 
Quebecs, and the surrounding country. 

The Basilica, 

Is another very old church, having been com- 
menced in 1647. Its chancel is designed in 
imitation of St. Peter's at Rome. It contains 
many fine paintings — of Van Dyck — even a 
Rubens is shown vou. Many of these great 

56 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

works, of the famous masters, were secured 
from the mobs that pillaged the churches of 
Paris during the reign of terror in 1793. You 
see in this church much of great value, among 
others a gold lamp worth $3,000. 

The English Cathedral, 

Has much of interest to see. The $10,000 
communion service, a present of George the 
Third, to this church, is very fine indeed. 
Around the walls are monument slabs in 
memory of men whose names stand high among 
those who made early history in Canada. 

The Hotel-Dieu. 

A convent and hospital, was founded by a 
niece of the famous Cardinal Richelieu in 1639. 
It is the oldest of its kind in America. It con- 
tains some fine rare paintings. 

The Literary and Historical Society, 

Has its rooms in Morrin College. It is a store 
house of valuable data of Quebec, as well as of 
Canada. The lover of the early history of this 
country may spend hours and days most 
valuably among the archives of this society. 
Sir James M. LeMoine was four times its Presi- 
dent. His enthusiasm fired the hearts of many 
an able writer, who came to seek, and in turn 

57 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

gave back much of rare value to history and 
romance. Francis Parkman was enthused by 
him, and the beautiful historical works of that 
able writer are the result ; Wm. Kirby wanted a 
subject and LeMoine gave him one which made 
even the Queen thank him for his '^ Le Chien 
D'Or"; Wm. Dean Howell has much for which 
to credit this President in " A Chance Ac- 
quaintance"; while Gilbert Parker was given oy 
him the plot of " The Seats of the Mighty." 
Even the humble pen is often influenced by this 
" Nestor of Canadian History," and however the 
world of readers may view it, the wielder of that 
" pen " will ever be grateful to this Grand Old 
Man. 

LITERARY QUEBEC. 

The Rock City has just reason to be proud of 
its Literati. Much of real worth has gone out 
and beyond its walled confines, and the world 
has gladly accepted the product. Its news- 
papers (both English and French) are enterpris- 
ing and well edited. I speak from knowledge, 
for in the month I spent in the city, I so persis- 
tently read at the French publications, that I 
could read them fairly well at the end of that 
time. While I could read, I could not speak it, 
owing to my " Horruble accint." 

58 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Fairly at the head of the Hst of writers, stands 
the man I have so often referred to, 

Sir James M. LeMoine. 

Recognized at home, and honored abroad, his 
writings are never questioned for accuracy. He 
goes to the bottom and brings up the facts in 
such a lucid manner, that he will ever stand as 
authority. To give a list of his writings would 
be to furnish my readers with a catalogue. A 
few of the number might be mentioned as : \ 

Legends of the Lower St. Lawrence, Maple 
Leaves (six series of them), The Tourist's Note 
Book, Quebec Past and Present, Historical 
Notes on Quebec and its Environs, The Scot 
in New France, Picturesque Quebec, and many 
others, not to mention the large number he has 
written in French ; the pamphlets he has pro- 
duced ; the lectures he has delivered ; or the 
volumes he has written of the flowers and birds 
of Canada. Is it any wonder that we find him 
holding honorary diplomas from nearly forty 
societies, including some of the greatest both in 
the United States and Europe ? On the list are 
seen the Audubon Society, of New York ; 
American Philosophical Society, of Philadelphia; 
The International Ornithological Congress, of 
Buda-Pesth, Hungary; and the Historic Diplo- 
matic Society, of Paris. Is it any wonder that 

59 



The Yankee in Qiichec. 

Queen Victoria honored him by making him a 
Sir Knight ? And yet to meet him in his home 
at Spencer Grange — a mile west of the city — he 
is so gentle and unpretentious, that you must 
know his great work to fully realize in whose 
presence you are. In reviewing the literary 
work of this writer, you will instinctively feel 
that his entire life has been devoted to that 
work alone, but instead, he was for fifty-three 
years at the head of important departments in 
the Government of Canada, with vast details to 
oversee; details that would seem to leave no 
time for aught else, and yet we find him carry- 
ing on, during those long years, a research that 
has proved of so great value to the antiquarian, 
and to the lover of history. While Sir James is 
honored abroad, for his mental work, he is loved 
at home for himself. From his fellow literati 
to the driver who carries you to Spencer Grange, 
you find the true position held by this charming 
old man in the hearts of his people. This to 
him must be sweeter far than the plaudits of a 
foreign world. 

Dr. George Stewart, Jr., 

whose name I find in the Cyclopedia of Cana- 
dian Biography, followed by D.C.L. — F.R.G.S. 
— F.R.S.C, is the editor of The Mercury, of 
Quebec. He was a New York City boy, and 
60 



The Yankee in Quebec 

this, from the above authority, should be pleas- 
ing to the patriots of that city, to know that 
even though another land had received the bene- 
fits of his mind, yet, this other land was New 
York's debtor for his existence. To quote the 
authority : "Among Canadian literateurs, Geo. 
Stewart, Jr., has fairly won for himself the 
distinguished position and reputation he enjoys, 
both in England and Canada, as a man of letters, 
and one of the brilliant literary lights of which 
our Dominion is so justly proud. At the age of 
sixteen he edited The Stamp Collector s Gazette, 
at eighteen he published Stezvarfs Quarterly 
Magazine, at thirty he accepted the editorship of 
the Rose-Bedford Canadian Monthly, and a year 
later that of the Quebec Morning Chronicle. In 
1879 he was elected a member of the Interna- 
tional Literary Congress of Europe — an honor 
conferred on no other Canadian — having Victor 
Hugo for President. Up to that time, those in 
America so honored were Longfellow, Bancroft, 
Holmes, Emerson, and Whittier. The Royal 
Geographical Society has conferred its degree 
of Fellow upon Dr. Stewart, and King's Uni- 
versity, of Nova Scotia, was proud to grant him 
a D.C.L. The Royal Society of Canada elected 
him Secretary for the English section. The 
Historical Society, of Quebec, has elected him 
seven times its President. The exclusive liter- 
61 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

ary club of London, the Athaeneum, admitted 
him an honorary member, his sponsors being 
Matthew Arnold and Lord Tennyson." 

Then follows a long list of his works. He 
is said (besides his ability as a writer) to be one 
of the most polished after dinner speakers in the 
Dominion. 

E. T. D. Chambers. 

Show me a man's company and I will read 
for you his position in a given walk of life. 
Again, a writer's ability is known by the people 
with whom he is placed, by the people who pay 
for his work. When, therefore, I find the name 
of E. T. D. Chambers, another of Quebec's 
men of letters in such company as President 
Roosevelt, Rudyard Kipling, Richard Harding 
Davis, Paul Leicester Ford, Gilbert Parker, Fred 
Remington, and other lights, whose names 
are known by all who read the best, I 
scarce need say more in his favor, and yet when 
this man's work is known, I can but feel that 
Outing, in the above list of writers showed 
wisdom, not alone in choosing him, but in plac- 
ing him far toward the head of the list. Mr. 
Chambers is English born and educated. He 
was long the editor of The Chronicle, of this city, 
but retired in 1898, to devote himself entirely 
to literature. The London Daily Telegraph 
62 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

says of him : '' Mr. Chambers is a recognized 
authority on Canadian sport, angling in par- 
ticular." He has written extensively on angling 
for Baedeker's " Canada," He has long been 
a contributor to the leading English, American 
and Canadian Magazines. His book, published 
by Harper Brothers, '* The Ouananiche and its 
Canadian Environment," will long remain in the 
lead, in the line of angling, in story. His 
*' Guide to Quebec," and his '' Guide to Eastern 
Canada " are most reliable works. 

Not alone as a writer, has Mr. Chambers 
shown marked ability, but in municipal govern- 
ment he is considered by his home city, worthy 
of years continued election to the city Council, 
on which body he has served ten years. He 
was also pro-mayor of the city for one term. 

In Masonry he is Past Grand Master, and for 
fifteen years author of the Foreign Correspon- 
dence Reports of the Grand Lodge and Grand 
Chapter of Quebec. 

It is not so much what a man has done, as 
what he is. This is what the world asks. Mr. 
Chambers's manner is that of a true gentleman, 
genial and kind — the sort of man that the world 
loves. 

J. J. Proctor. 

There is or was a certain American writer 
whose politics I could not endure, but whose 

63 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

writings, when he was off that subject, were 
simply charming to me. I used to read his 
books, mark them all over at the good places, 
until they looked like blotters after a month's 
usage. The good things in them cling to me yet 
I see no marks now, all is clear. When I 
chanced to drop upon another author away off 
in Canada, so much like my old friend, my 
heart fairly bounded for old time memories. I 
do not know his politics, and would not recog- 
nize them if I met them, but I know that as 
soon as I began reading his " The Philosopher," 
I said , " Here's my old friend." 

J. J. Proctor, editor of The Chronicle, is not 
only a prose writer, but a poet as well. He has 
written much that is beautiful. See this bit from 
his " Musings at Nightfall "—I give a touch of 
both prose and verse to show the sweet blending 
of his style : " What does the night breeze 
whisper among the Stumps? A regret for the 
forest glories, and a sigh for the present desola- 
tion ; or a vision of the beauty to come? Who 
knows ? Does the man, or the woman, far 
advanced in years, know whether in the depths 
of the heart, the regret for past joys, the consci- 
ousness of failing powers, or the prospect of the 
newer and better life, is really the most predomi- 
nant ? I wonder whether I could put his 

64 



The Yankee in Quebec, 

thoughts into verse, and whether they would 
run much in this way : 

Is there a sigh for the days of yore, 

When the soul looks back on the beaten track? 

Is it ''Ah, for the days that shall be no more. 
And alas ! for the present, all gloomy and 

black ?' 
God knows — Not I. 

This selection I took at random. It is but 
the first verse, and first verses seldom equal 
what follows — would you might read it all, I 
shall — and often. 

Has there been said ought more touching 
on the death of the Queen than this ? It is but 
one verse, the last one : 

Nay, not farewell, although our prayers no 

longer 
Be for guarding and for length of days, 
Our grateful love shall echo all the stronger 
The new and nobler hymn our hearts shall raise : 
" Thou who hast summoned to a higher scene 
Our Sovereign, Mother, friend, God bless the 

Queen." 

As one reads on and on the feeling grows 
that England, in her selection of poets, could 
well look to her Colonies rather than at home. 

Pathos and humor, deep thought and light 

65 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

fancy, go mingling on together throughout his 
writings, until one cannot but feel ; Ah, here's a 
genius ! 

Madame Jette 

Nor is excellence in literature confined alone 
to the men of Quebec, the women too are of the 
number. The cultured and withal most charm- 
ing of women, Madame Jette, the wife of the 
Lieutenant-Governor, is a writer recognized by 
such as His Lordship Archbishop Fabre, at 
whose request this lady wrote the life of Madame 
Youville, who in 1737 founded the Order of the 
Grey Nuns, a book which has been reviewed in 
most flattering terms. Amongst the other liter- 
ary labors of Madame Jette may be mentioned 
an exhaustive article on Religious Congrega- 
tions, prepared at the request of Lady Aberdeen, 
for the book published by the Canadian Govern- 
ment for the Paris Exhibition. Madame 
Jette is not only a writer, but a speaker of fine 
address. In style and manner she is not unlike 
our own most estimable Mrs. Donald McLean, 
whom we all so appreciate and admire. 

Dr. N. E. Dionne. 

The Doctor — an F.R.S.C, — one of Canada's 
able historians, has written largely on both men 
and times. His life of Champlain and that of 
66 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Jacques Cartier, are most exhaustive works. 
*' New France " is one of his best histories, 
although he has written much else that is excel- 
lent. He was chosen as one of the writers of 
the history of Canada gotten out by the Govern- 
ment. His Champlain is being translated from 
the French into English. 

The Doctor has long been the Government 
Librarian at the Parliament House. 

Napoleon Legendre, 

A poet of rare beauty, has written much that 
is commendable, but, unfortunately for my 
purpose, all his works are in French, and for 
their excellence I must needs depend upon the 
opinions of others, the concensus of which is 
reason for the opening clause of this notice. 

Judge Routhier. 

Not alone in history, poetry and biography, 
do the writers of Quebec excel, but in travel, we 
find in Judge Routhier a man of ability. His 
travels in France, Spain, Italy, and many of the 
other lands, are like reading a story, so smoothly 
and pleasantly are they written. He is, more- 
over, a poet, and has much in that line worthy 
of more than the passing notice which I must 
accord in the hasty glance I give of Quebec 
and its people. 

67 



llic Yankee in Quebec. 
Rev. Fredk. George Scott, F.R.S.C. 

Poetry seems to pervade the air of Quebec. 
It is confined to no walk of life. We find the 
muse beside the editor's chair, or hovering about 
the Court Room, the friend of the Judge. There 
is one whose life seems to be more fitted for 
the companionship of that spirit of beauty than 
all others — ^that of the minister. His life is 
given up to the better thoughts, and he has few 
of the worries. It was no surprise to me to be 
told that the Rev. Frederick George Scott was 
the author of much that was sweet and beautiful, 
but it was a surprise to find him a young man, 
when I had judged from his works, that he was 
far along toward the end. 

Some few of his published works are , Soul's 
Quest and other poems, My Lattice and other 
poems. The Unnamed Lake, Old and New. 

Again I find reason to make a selection, to 
let you see why this young poet so much pleases 
me. The verse is picked from the body of a 
poem. I give it, merely to show the beauty of 
rhythm and the strength of his style. It is 
from his " Evolution of Man." 

He wrenched from great Nature her secrets, the 
stars in their courses he named ; 

He weighed them, and measured their orbits, 
he harnessed the horses of steam ; 
68 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

He captured the lightnings of heaven, the 
waves of the ocean he tamed ; 

And ever the wonder amazed him, as one who 
awakes from a dream. 

Geo. M. Fairchild, Jr. 

In a New Jersey town, not far from New 
York City, is a very popular club, whose name 
has always struck my fancy as being a very 
beautiful one. I had often wondered where a 
town not remarkable for beauty in naming, had 
found one so euphonious and appropriate for 
club purposes, but on reaching Quebec, and 
while looking over LeMoine's " Explorations," 
I ran upon the picture of a fine looking man in 
hunting costume. Beneath the picture is the 
caption, ** The President of the Oritanis in 
sporting jacket." *' Oritani," how homelike that 
name sounded ! On reading the sketch next 
the picture, I found that this president was none 
other than the popular author, Mr. George M. 
Fairchild, Jr., so well and favorably known and 
appreciated, in and about New York City. I 
traced him to this New Jersey town, where he 
had resided when in the States, then I knew 
from whence came the name Oritani. Mr. Fair- 
child had retired from New York commercial 
life, and is now residing in his beautiful country 
69 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

home, Raven's Cliffe, near Cap Rouge, west of 
Quebec, which he left to go to New York many 
years ago. To his invitation, '' Come to see 
me before you return to New York," I said, " I 
will come (naming the day) afternoon." " No 
you won't; we dine at 12, and see that you are 
there to break Canadian bread with us " — more 
hospitable I have never eaten ! His home is a 
very nest of comfort. To give a list of his writ- 
ings and songs would be to furnish another 
catalogue, as the number is so great. The 
name Fairchild is so linked with Canadian 
sports, that to speak of the one is to recall the 
other. " Winter Sports in Canada," to read 
which makes one envy the Winter Canadian, 
while his *' Summer Sports in Canada " will ever 
bring to my mind the happiest summer I ever 
spent in any land. 

As an illustration of this many-sided genius, 
see this muscieal gem, with a bicycle artist friend 
as his subject: 

*' He's an artist, J. B. Hance, 
And if he by any chance. 
Sees a bit of landscape as he's wheeling. 
Why, he paints it on the fly, 
For the public love to buy 
The picture that has go and local feeling. 
70 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

" But let artists all beware, 
If to copy him they dare, 

For to paint upon a bike while gaily wheeling 
Takes a genius such as Hance's 
To snatch from hurried glances, 
The masterpiece, with go and local feeling." 
MgT. Joseph Clovis Kemler LaFlamnie. 

Educationist, Professor of Geology in Laval 
University, also Superior of the Seminary of 
Quebec and Rector of the University. He has 
made a great study of the geological formation 
of the Saguenay, and other localities, and has 
written very extensively on this subject, as well 
as the botany of Canada. In 1894 he was 
appointed by the Pope a Profonotaire Apostolique 
which carries with it the title of Monsignor. In 
1897 he was elected a Vice-President of the 
International Geographic Congress, held in St. 
Petersburg, He is a member of the Societe 
Geologique, of France, of the American Geo- 
logical Society, and of the Society of French 
Physics. He is also an ex-Presiclent of the 
Royal Society of Canada. 

Louis Honore Frechette, 

Entered the Bar in 1864. The following year 
he was a journalist in Chicago. He was for 
a while secretary of the land department of the 
Illinois Central. He has been a member in the 

71 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

House of Commons, has been a contributor to 
many of the best publications, such as the Forum 
— Harpers' — rt:he Arena and others.. Two of 
his poems were crowned by the French 
Academy in 1880 ; he was granted the first 
Montyon Prize, unanimously ; he was given an 
LL.D. by McGill, and also by Queen's, in 1881 ; 
D. es L. by Laval University; F.R.S.C. in 1882; 
one of the founders of the Canadian Society of 
Arts in 1893, and its first President ; created a 
C.M.G. by Her Majesty the Queen in 1897. He 
has written largely in French, but also writes 
well in English prose. He is so great a poet 
that all others without a question accord him 
his place at the top of the list. He is Poet 
Laureate of Canada — a greater honor than to be 
one of the sort that the Mother Country has 
been choosing of late years. He has paid my 
country the honor of translating' Wni. Dean 
Howell's : "A Chance Acquaintance " and Geo. 
W. Cables' '' Old Creole Days." His poetical 
works I cannot speak of, since they are in 
French, but I am told that they are beautiful, 
and have a charm of style peculiarly their own. 
How one wishes for space when one has found 
so good a subject as this Poet-Genius ! 

With this long list of writers worthy of 
passing notice, I find I have barely touched 
upon the number who might be named among 
72 



The Yankee in Qiiehec. 

the literati of Quebec, but in a miniature book 
one cannot give all one would, and one must 
stop somewhere lest one's book be not miniature. 



CHATEAU BIGOT 

When I had finished reading" Le Chien D'Or 
I had lost all desire of seeing anything else until 
we had gone to Chateau Bigot, beyond Charles- 
bourg. It has been known by the names of the 
Hermitage, Beaumanior, Chateau Bigot, and 
a number of others, lost in the travel of time. 
We took the Quebec and Lake St. John railroad 
to Charlesbourg, three miles north-west of 
Quebec, and from that small village, walked the 
rest of the way, which we were told was a short 
three miles, but which proved so far, that the 
Colonel decided, long before we reached it, 
that there was no question at all about Bigot 
being a married man, and had built his Castle 
so far away, that Mrs. Bigot would never risk 
finding him in the distant jungle of woods, at 
the foot of La Montagne des Ormes (Elm 
Mountain). The fact of the matter was that 
the Colonel had gone the wrong road, and got 
me lost, and then married Bigot ofif to excuse 
himself. 

73 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

One's imagination would be severely taxed 
to make a Castle out of a building 30 x 50 feet 
and two stories high, (all of which remains is 
the foundation and a part of two walls) were it 
not that reason will conclusively show that the 
real castle was constructed of wood, and had 
long ago been burned away. That which now 
stands was nothing more than an annex, or 
outbuilding, since the great retinue of servants 
alone would have required many times the room 
contained in the present narrow limits, while 
for the people who were ever round this profli- 
gate, a vast building would have been required 
to entertain them as Bigot was wont to enter- 
tain. We find on good authority that '' Bigot 
had acquired the chateau (possibly built by 
Talon) and enlarged it very much." That 
which remains was originally built as the foun- 
dations indicate, neither larger nor smaller. 
Again, a man of his prodigally luxurious tastes 
and untold thousands at his command, to gratify 
those tastes, would never have been content 
(even though it were possible), to entertain in a 
house so insignificant as these remaining walls 
would indicate. No, 

The real Castle a vast structure of wood, 

has long ago passed back to the elements, and 
naught remains to mark the spot. 

74 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

To visit this old Castle, is not to look upon 
its stone and fast crumbling mortar. It is to 
feel that you have seen the place, rebuilt its old 
walls, and repeopled it with the characters who 
once made its name a by-word for rapine, and 
wrong to New France. The weirdness of the 
memory will cling to the place, long after the 
walls are levelled to the ground, and the grass 
is growing over the spot, as now it is growing 
over the spot where once stood the real 
" Chateau Bigot." 

The Colonel loses Rube 

The Colonel, not content with getting me lost 
going, lost me more fatiguingly on the return, 
by taking a " nearer cut," as he said. We passed 
the little " lake " near the Castle bridge, skirted 
the Ormes mountain, came through meadows of 
hay where the whole family were out gathering 
the bundles on to the queer little carts — asked 
of workers the way to Charlesbourg and were 
good naturedly answered by a " we" (yes) to 
all our questions. " Kel Shemin Sharles- 
bourg ?" I asked, " we, we," was the answer, 
and we walked on. Not one of the family 
seemed to know a word of English. We passed 
others in the fields and I ^' Kel Shemined" them, 
but like the first family of workers they simply 
answered " we." " Colonel," said I, 

75 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
*' What's the matter, anyhow, with my French ?" 

" Like yourself, it's lost — at least on these 
people." We came to a main road, after 
wandering over more hay fields, and wood lots. 
A short way up this road the Colonel said : 
" There is a woman. Rube, go over and try 
your French again." " Quee'l est lay Sheming 
Charley's burg ?" I said slowly and with empha- 
sis. She seemed to grasp my question, smiled, 
pointed up the pike in the direction we had been 
walking and said " we." ''At last we are found. 
Colonel !" I exclaimed, and we hurried on, 
happy in knowing that we would be able to 
reach Charlesbourg before the last train left for 
Quebec. 

A pretty milk maid finds him. 

We had gone possibly another mile, when, 
coming down the pike, swinging a pail, we met 
a pretty milk maid. We raised our hats, I 
cleared my throat and started in laboriously : 
" Quel est le chemin de Charlesbourg ma bonne 
demoiselle ?" When she had concluded a very 
merry laugh at my effort, she replied in the best 
English we had heard for hours : " Yeer wurds 
aire oil roight, but yeer accint is hurrubel ! Is 
it the road to Sharleyburg ye wants ?" " It is, 
and thank you kindly, miss," said the Colonel, 
I not yet having recovered. " Wull, if ye iver 

76 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

expict to git thare, turn round and go duther 
diriction." '' Why," said I, " there was a 
woman back there told us this was the Charles- 
bourg road." ''An' faidth an' the woman back 
thare was roight, it is the Charleyburg rode, but 
loike mony anuther rode in Canady, it hus two 
inds, an' yeve gan and tuk the rang ind." But 
we didn't take '' the last train to Quebec, that 
evening." 

The Colonel tells a story. 

The Colonel said, the milkmaid's explanation 
reminded him of his friend, General Pleasan- 
ton's, experience at Tunnulton, W.Va., during 
the war. '' The General swept down the moun- 
tain into Tunnulton, after the Confederates. 
When he got into the town the only man in 
sight was an Irishman, whom he asked, ' Come 
quick, Mike, tell me how many roads are there 
coming into this place ?' ' Wan, yer honor' 
and the General soon had it well guarded, so 
that the enemy might not get out, with their 
waggons and artillery. Later on he found that 
there was another road, and that the Confede- 
rates had gone. Mike was hunted up, and, tried 
for ' aiding and abetting.' ' Now,' said the 
General, with all the ' scare' he could possibly 
throw into his voice, 'what have you to say? 
You told us that there was but one road coming 

77 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

into this town, when I find instead that there are 
two !' ' Wrang yer honor is, thayer is but 
wan road coming in, duther is going- out, and I 
giss the Ribbils have took it !' " 



ST. LOUIS ROAD. 

Skirts the north boundary of the Plains of 
Abraham, and is destined to become the great 
avenue of the city. It runs almost due west, 
and is bordered by many a fine old homestead. 
Bona Place, the home of Mr. Wm. Lee, is seen to 
the right, just after passing the toll gate, on this 
road. Mr. Lee has long been identified with 
Notre Dame Parish, which is just outside the 
city limits, to the west. He has been Council- 
lor for twenty-four years, and during sixteen 
years of that time its Mayor as well. Such a 
record is seldom made, and speaks volumes for 
the maker. The first one to the south beyond 
the Plains is '' Marchmont," now the property 
of the Ursuline Nuns. Next beyond is " Wolfs- 
field," so called from its being the place on 
which General Wolfe got his troops in order, 
after their disembarkation at Wolfe's Cove, near 
by. It is the property of that genial young 
millionnaire, William Price. '' Thornhill " is 
passed on the north side of the road. It is, 
78 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

like all places in that locality, full of historic 
interest. Opposite is Spencer Wood, the mag- 
nificent residence of Lieutenant-Governor Sir 
Louis Jette, and joining it, to the west, is 

Spencer Grange, 

the beautiful home of Sir James M. LeMoine. 
It is reached by a densely shaded, winding drive 
way, from the Sillery pike. It is an ideal place, 
sweet and restful, much after a south of England 
country seat. It is not extensive, but the skilled 
mind and hand has so concentrated its beauties 
that it seems far larger than it is. Passing from 
the front piazza, out through great beds of 
flowers and shrubbery, scenting the air with 
their fragrance, you reach the woods beyond. 
Near a narrow path, as you enter the wood. Sir 
James has had set up those blocks from the city 
gates, on which were originally cut the names of 
those old portals. When the old were torn away 
for the new, these " name " blocks were given to 
him, as the one most worthy of receiving them. A 
collection of Canadian birds and many rare relics 
are collected at this spot — a veritable sylvan 
museum. 

Near by Spencer Grange is Bagatelle, further 
on is Woodfield, once one of '' the most ornate 
and richly laid out estates around Quebec," and 
Roslin, the elegant home of Lieut.-Colonel J. B. 

79 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Forsyth, the Collector of Customs at Quebec. 
Many other beautiful and historical homes are 
seen further along to the west, toward and 
beyond Sillery. Bardfleld, the late Bishop 
Mountain's country seat, is now owned by 
Albert Henry Furniss of pleasant memory. 
Benmore, once the home of the greatest nimrod 
in Canada, Colonel Rhodes ; Claremont, founded 
by Lieutenant-Governor R. E. Caron, on the 
banks of the St. Lawrence, and now owned by 
Lieut.-Colonel Turnbull. Next is 

Beauvoir, 

built by, and since occupied by many an honor- 
able, but none more so, than its present owner 
and occupant, Hon. R. R. Dobell, brother of my 
friend, Alfred Dobell, of Liverpool, one of the 
great timber merchants of the world. 

Beauvoir deserves more than a passing notice, 
since it is one of the 

Most beautiful homes in or about Quebec. 

It is situated on the crest of the cliffs of Sillery 
Cove (in which the Hon. Mr. Dobell has his 
timber industry located, and in which is to be 
seen the monument he and his employees and 
other parishioners of Sillery, erected to the 
memory of Chevalier de Sillery, and the Rev. 
Edward Masse, who figured so prominently in 
80 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

the early days of the settlement here). The 
lawn sweeps back a gentle rise to the house, 
several hundred feet away. Every appointment 
in and about Beauvoir, is perfect from 
Nature, in the great profusion of flowers 
and shrubbery, to the valuable marble statuary, 
and rare paintings, in art. In the art gallery 
and in the spacious halls are seen many beautiful 
works from the brushes of Donovan Adams, 
Sydney Cooper, John Constable, and many 
others, to E. Frith's John Knox, and Guido 
Reni's masterpiece, St. Sebastian. Luxury, 
guided by the rare hand of good taste, is seen in 
every nook, restful and pleasing. One of the 
most beautiful pieces of sculpture I have ever 
seen, is in Hon. Mr. Dobell's gallery. It is John 
Adams Acton's *' Lady of the Lake." The pose 
is taken where Katherine stands in sad contem- 
plation, while the gentle hound, refusing the 
chase, leans affectionately against the heroine. 
The statue is life size. 

Here again I exclaim — '' Oh, for more space!" 
Then come The Highlands, Meadozvbrook, 
Rosczvood, Ravenzvood, Longzvood, and, zvould I 
had the space to note down all the other beauti- 
ful old homes to be seen to the West of Quebec 
within a distance of five miles. It is like some 
choice part picked from old England, and 
picturesquely dropped down upon the banks of 
8i 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

the historic St. Lawrence. If you should come 
to Quebec, — and come you should, and come 
you will have to, if you ever expect to see the 
most interesting spot in the New World," — you 
should not fail to drive out the St. Louis Road. 
It will repay you, and especially so if you have 
read LeMoine's Picturesque Quebec before you 
start. This locality is in so marked a contrast 
to the many cottage-bordered roads, to be seen 
here, that one has to wonder that both sorts are 
in the same country. The one a continuous 
line of white (color is the exception — white — white 
is the miles of little houses that line the roads of 
Canada) the other with country seats, so beauti- 
ful, so picturesque, so fraught with lively interest, 
that one instinctively feels the contrast, and 
enjoys more fully the scenes. Yes, drive out St. 
Louis road. 



THE LAKES 

To miss seeing the lakes to be found in every 
direction around Quebec, is to visit Switzerland 
and not see its far famed sheets of crystal. Here 
within the radius of an easy drive are lakes Cal- 
vaire, St. Charles, St. John, St. John Country, St. 
Joseph, and 

Lake Beauport 

When the Colonel had told me of this last 
82 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

lake ; had described its location in the very heart 
of the Laurentian Mountains, far above sea level, 
and told me the legend of the Algonquin Chief 
and his lost love, a weird desire held me in sway, 
until we had driven the twelve miles, north-west 
of Quebec tO' visit it. 

We went up, one beautiful Saturday afternoon, 
and remained until Monday morning. There 
are many places where you may find most excel- 
lent accommodation all about, and near the lake. 
I find in my note book this little picture which 
I sketched on Sunday morning, while the 
Colonel slept on, at the hotel : 

*^You look to the east across the lake, long and 
narrow. The water is still, scarcely a ripple 
moves its surface, the shadows of the mountains 
on the further shore mirror themselves in the 
clearness of the lake. The sun is just rising 
over the high elevation and you shade your eyes 
from its slanting rays, as you paint the picture. 
Here and there you see a cleared spot, with a 
farmhouse set almost against the face of the hill. 
Nothing breaks the stillness of the morning, 
save the tinkling of a bell of some animal, as 
it feeds, far up the valley across the lake, or the 
crowing of a cock hard by. The birds begin to 
sing their morning songs, and all life soon 
becomes animate. In the very edge, nearest 
you, sits lightly a modern canoe, and you let 

83 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

your mind wander back to the age, when in ics 
place might have been seen the rough hewn dag- 
out of the Indian. Miles away to the left, in a 
depression of the range, can be seen looming up 
two towering peaks, and nearer rising from the 
very edge of the northern shore, is Mount 
Albert, where the legend locates the beautiful, 
but most tragic story of the Algonquins." 

After breakfast, with our good friend J. P. 
Hicks, we were rowed out upon the lake, and 
visited the little camps that line its borders, with 
their rough unhewn log houses, through the 
windows of which we see the great wood " fire- 
places," with bunks for the sleepers. We are 
made to wish that we might have the time to 
spend a whole month, as inmates, fishing for the 
wily trout and roaming over the surrounding 
hills. 

In his odd looking boat in the middle of the 
lake, we came across 

The lone fisherman of the Lake, 

James Heal. He is a unique character, and 
worthy of more than a passing line. He is a 
veteran of the Crimea, and has to his service 
credit, twenty-two years of fighting and camp 
life. I said he was unique. He is one of the 
rare old soldiers, who lay no claim to having, 
in any of their many fights, turned the tide of 

84 



The Yankee hi Quebec. 



battle. '' No, I've done no deed of valor," said 
he, " I just tried to do my duty. Shot when in 
line, and ran when I had to. History wouldn't 
have been changed a bit, even though I had 
never lived." Unique old man, unassuming, 
but in war, I should never have chosen him as 
an antagonist. 




The Lone Fisherman of Lake Beauport, from a photograph 
taken by little Miss Viola P. of Quebec. 

That afternoon, as the Colonel and I sat on the 
border of the lake, at the foot of Mount Albert, 
I asked him to tell me an Indian story. Tell 
me, Horatius, the 

Legend of the Lake. 

Without preliminary he began : 

'' Intendant Bigot was not the only profligate 

85 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

sent out to New France, from the Mother 
Country. There was one whose trail, legend 
says, was marked by many a tragedy, fully as sad 
as ever was credited to that other wicked man. 
He built a great house here on this lake, and 
surrounded himself with retainers little less 
profligate than himself. His incursions extend- 
ed over a vast territory, and tribute exacted from 
friend and foe. No ties were sacred to him. No 
matter the home, if it contained that which 
pleased his fancy, it was ruthlessly robbed of it, 
and brought to his Bacchanalian halls, where all 
hope ceased, for his power was absolute. 

Far away on the St. Lawrence dwelt the 
Algonquins. A young chief of the tribe wooed 
and won the heart of the old chieftain's daugh- 
ter, Loroline. They had played together in 
childhood, along the streams, and were ever 
inseparable and happy. When as a child a rare 
flower or feather was found, the little Indian 
boy brought it to Loroline, to deck her hair, and 
when he had grown to manhood, he asked her 
hand in marriage, but the stern old chief, her 
father, refused his consent unless the lover 
should bring to him the proof, that an ancient 
enemy of his were dead. This enemy was 
sought far and wide by the young chief, but 
sought in vain, until three years had passed, 
when in a far away country, the two met face to 
86 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

face in a lone forest. The old enemy had long 
known of the Algonquin's search for him, and 
prepared to defend his life. Spurred on by his 
hope of at last gaining the hand of the gentle 
maiden, and by the thought of the years of fruit- 
less going to and fro, his young arm, the elder 
could not withstand, and he was slain. No 
Knight Errant of old ever sought again the 
hand he had fairly won, as did the young Algon- 
quin. Travel as he might, the distance was so 
great that many weeks had passed, ere he 
reached the home of her, whom he had fought to 
win. What was his sadness on reaching the 
home of the old Algonquin Chief, to find that 
Loroline had long been lost, No one knew 
ought of her, save that she had gone from home 
and had never returned. The whole tribe had 
sought for her in vain. The grief of the young 
chief was great. Without stopping to rest from 
his long wanderings, he set out in search for her, 
as he had never before searched. He went up 
and down the mountain passes, sought for her 
in the forests, along the streams, ever calling, 
calling, for his love. One day he chanced to 
come upon a castle, at the foot of a mountain, in 
a far away country. Why, he knew not, but he 
felt that he was near the object of his search. 
Day after day he wandered about, hoping ever 
that Loroline might be seen, for he was now 

87 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

certain that she was within the castle. Weeks 
passed away, but he seemed to be hoping in 
vain. The revelry at night was past his under- 
standing. The sun oft rose ere the sound of 
the Bacchanalian songs were hushed. The days 
were still, but at night the revelry began again. 
New faces came and went. Soldiers in uniform, 
young men of proud mien, with debauchery 
marking their faces, were of the number. Aye 
and women, too, were there, fairer women than 
he had ever dreamed of; beautiful as his concep- 
tion of beings about whom the good priest had 
told him, dwelt in the paradise of the white man. 
But in all the number that came and went, he 
ne'er found the face of her whose beauty, to his 
heart, surpassed all others, and yet he knew he 
was near her. One day a great cavalcade left 
the castle, and watching for a moment when all 
about was still, the young chief boldly entered 
grasping his knife firmly that he be not suddenly 
set upon. He wandered unmolested from room 
to room, until he reached a part of the castle 
that seemed to be unused. He came to a door 
that was bolted from within. He stopped t^ 
plan his next move, when he heard a soft moan 
beyond the bolted door. He listens and hears 
in the Algonquin tongue : ' Oh why, why this 
awful suspense ! Day after day he puts me off 
with promises for the morrow ! I cannot endure 

88 




FALLS OP MONTMORENCY 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

it! Oh that I might die and rest, rest.' What 
means that awful grief ? 'LoroHne, Loro- 
Hne !' softly calls the Indian. The sob- 
bing ceases. He hears a movement within, 
the bolt gently slides back, and there before him 
stands the object of his long search. Stands as 
a statue ! Her long black hair unkempt, and 
falling nearly to her knees. No sign of recog- 
nition is on her face ; no glad arms encircle his 
neck ; no lover's kiss is his. ' Loroline, Loro- 
line, have you no greeting for me? No welcome 
after all these years of waiting ?' The cold 
statue simply stares back at him and answers. 
* No — none.' As a lightning flash the long 
knife finds the heart which he had lost, and 
Loroline found her ' Rest, rest,' There in the 
lake, when the ice of Spring had broken up, was 
found the body of the young lover, and the two 
lie here, some where, together in a lone un- 
named, unmarked grave." 

TRIP TO THE FALLS OF MONT- 
MORENCY. 

The Colonel called it the '' Peace D. Resis- 
tance," but could not tell me what he meant by 
it. He said he thought it was French or Latin, 
at any rate, he had heard nearly everybody use 
it, when speaking of Montmorency falls. When 
89 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

I looked at them in all the admiration I could 
command at the moment, I told the Colonel 
plainly that I had no fault to find with '' Every- 
body," no matter what was meant by the 
expression. I won't spoil the view by an 
attempted description. I simply say to you, 
who come to Quebec, 

Go see the Falls. 

You will behold a beautiful sheet of water, pour- 
ing over a ledge of rock, loo feet higher than 
our own great Niagara, not so broad, of course, 
but a greater plunge. Don't stop here, but 
follow up the bank of the river, that flows 
through a deep depression in the hills, until you 
have gone possibly a mile above. Pick your 
way down a well beaten path, lOO feet, until you 
have again reached the stream, and you will 
look upon a freak of nature, found nowhere else 
among its great and curious works. 

The Natural Steps 

This is a name that will hardly convey to your 
mind correctly, the view that will greet your 
eyes, as you look upon the quarter of a mile of 
the river's bed, where for untold ages the waters 
have cut away, and chisseled out of the flakey 
rocks, a series of steps, as for the entrance way 
to a giant's castle. The river at this place has 

92 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

left the " steps " high and dry, and has cut down, 
a sheer depthof 40 feet or more, on the north side 
of the bed, and as you look over the edge you 
see it go seething and foaming, and ever cutting 
the channel further back. The rocky wall 
beyond the stream rises perpendicular, with layers 
so regular that one could almost believe it had 
been laid by some giant mason of prehistoric 
time. 

If Quebec had no other charm, 

for the tourist than those of Montmorency, they 
would amply repay him for a long journey. 

H. M. Price. 

Near to, and overlooking the Falls, is the 
home of that genial host, Mr. H. M. Price, 
whose hospitality is confined to no land. Here 
have visited those whose names have made 
history, or whose writings have found their way 
into the best literature of the world. A few 
names culled from the autographs here seen 
are Princess Louise, the Hon. Joseph Chamber- 
lain, Lords Lome, Swanisea, Landsdown, 
Herschell, Playfair, Raleigh and Pauncefote ; 
Counts de Levis, de Turin, and Princes Roland 
Napoleon Bonaparte and Loewenstein, killed 
early in our Philippine war near Manilla, Due 
and Duchess de Beaufort and many others, one 

95 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

of whom is our well known Captain E. L. Zelin- 
ski, a special friend of the host ; whilst among 
the men of letters who have here found entertain- 
ment are Archdeacon Farrar, Sir James M. 
LeMoine, Wm. Kirby, Gilbert Parker, Joachim 
Miller, Justin McCarthy, and a host of others 
whose names are familiar. 

To wander through these old halls, to see the 
relics of other centuries, — here a cannon from the 
French Admiral's flagship, sunk at Lewisburg 
by Wolfe's fleet in 1757 ; piles of cannon balls 
from the many sieges of Quebec, and hundreds 
of other things of historic interest, was indeed 
a rare pleasure. 

We pass out through the flower gardens and 
beautiful grounds, planned by Mrs. Price, a lady 
of rare culture and genial manner, over a walk 
that leads out to the summer house, built almost 
over the Falls, where a view of great beauty 
greets the eye. This little house is of historic 
interest. 

Madame de E-iedsel, 

wife of the General who commanded the Hessian 
troops during the American war, was one day 
standing with General Haldimand, looking over 
the Falls, when she suggested, '' What a location 
for a summer house !" On her next visit, some 
weeks after, the General led her out to the same 

96 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

spot, where stood the house built at her sugges- 
tion. A short distance above where this little 
house now stands, in August, 1759, a French 
sentry stood and shot at Captain Knox (author 
of Knox's Journal) of General Wolfe's army, 
who was taking notes on the Falls, on the oppo- 
site side of the river, but fortunately the Captain 
retired from view, in time to save his life. At 
that time the army of Wolfe was on the east, and 
that of Montcalm, on the west, of the Mont- 
morency. Even to this day the old entrench- 
ments are to be plainly seen all about the Falls. 

The piers of the suspension bridge which once 
spanned the Montmorency, are standing yet, on 
the ledge, almost over the falls. The bridge 
itself broke, and fell, in 1856, carrying down, 
and over the Falls, a peasant and his wife who' 
were crossing at the time in a cart. 

Not far from Mr. Price's house, is 




^^i^^::^^ 




Haldimand House, 

97 



The Yankee in Quehee. 

built about 1780, by General Haldimand, It 
was the residence of the Duke of Kent, father of 
Queen Victoria. It was here he spent three 
summers at the end of the i8th century, residing 
in winter at the " Kent House " on St. Louis 
street. 



AMERICANS IN QUEBEC. 

Sitting at the hotel table shortly after reaching 
the city, I chanced to speak to a gentleman at 
my left and was surprised and pleased to find 
him Mr. R. E. French, from Medina, Ohio — my 
home State, — but my surprise grew when he 
introduced me to Mr. J. A. Warren, from the 
same Ohio town. While talking together — the 
three remaining people at the table hearing our 
conversation, turned in their reports, — one from 
Detroit, the other two from Chicago. I felt as 
happy as one night years ago, 

While camping on a small creek in Kansas, 

where eight different ^' freighters " had turned in 
for the night. As soon as the camp fires were 
started and we were all seated around for the 
songs and stories, we began, by comparing notes, 
and to the one question, "where are you from?" 

98 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

seven of the eight answered with a will, ''Ohio." 
The Colonel says : 

" Ohio is a good place to be born 

in if you don't have to keep it," but the Colonel 
is liable to say anything. 

But speaking of R. E. French, he is known 
down in Ohio, not as a " Sugar King," but as 
the " French Maple Syrup Prince." He is an 
example of what a man can be by honest dealing. 
In this age when much of the pure old foods 
are so mixed that you can't even recognize your 
dearest friend among them, it is a pleasure to 
feel that you know a man who could not be 
induced for any amount to change from its 
purity this same " dearest friend," as to me maple 
syrup is. Not so much, perhaps, in itself, as 
for old memory sake. Why, the very last 
'' thrashing " I ever got was one that father 
forgot to give me for letting burn a whole kettle 
of syrup that day the McFarland boy from 
Westville, came down with his father to attend 
'^ quarterly meeting." Yes, I used to attend 
camp^ — " tapped " the trees — boiled the " sap " — 
yes, and burned the syrup. Fll never forget my 
entry into the life of a sugar maker — I tapped 
first one tree, carried the sap in a bucket a half 
mile to the house, and in saving up enough for a 
*' boiling," let it all " sour," and lost a week's 

99 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

hard work. We used to go up to ''Aunt 
Rachel's, the one I told you about in " My 
Friend Bill," and she always had pancakes and 
maple syrup. My, my, but the memory is a sweet 
one, although more years have passed since than 
I like to think of as gone. Who among you 
but has had some experience in either " tending 
camp," or visiting one in the early spring ! But 
like many another sweet memory of childhood 
the camp of the syrup maker is often a memory 
only. The camp on the old Ohio farm at home, 
the last time I was there, was a cornfield, not a 
tree was left, but I could shut my eyes and see 
them all, and all in their old places. Many of 
the boys who came down to ^' help " have long 
ago gone, like the trees. Some have been trans- 
planted in far away lands, and too many, alas, are 
gone forever. I asked French what he was 
doing up here, and he said so many of the camps 
in the States had been like ours at home, cut 
away, and that he was looking for a new supply, 
and Canada is the one great field left. French 
must have had an inspiration when he chose for 
his emblem of purity a bottle made like a section 
of a maple tree. It's odd and appropos and one 
that cannot be forgotten. 

After this meeting at dinner, I asked Horatius 
if there were many Americans in Quebec. I 

lOO 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

didn't mean visitors, as I knew by the throngs 
at all the hotels that the city was full of them. 
'' Yes, said the Colonel, " our country is well 
represented," and he took me at once to meet 
our Consul, 

General Wm. W. Henry, 

who is just finishing his fourth year, with a re- 
appointment for another four years term. This 
proves the esteem in which he is held by our 
Government, while I find on all sides here very 
much satisfaction with him. In fact he and his 
estimable wife are great favorites. He is a 
most genial, efficient officer. The General is 
from Vermont. During the Rebellion he was 
Colonel of the loth Regiment of that State, and 
I find on reading up his war record, great reason 
for his having been promoted from Lieutenant 
up through the various offices to Brigadier- 
General. When I wrote that other Vermont 
friend of mine, B. H. Albee, and told him that 
I had met his friend, General Henry, and that I 
had found him such an all-round good citizen 
that I could hardly realize he was from Vermont 
instead of Ohio, I got in return, this character- 
istic letter from 

That humorist from Vermont. 

*' Your reference to W. W. Henry suggests what 
I have frequently noticed before. There are 

lOI 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

only two States you ever hear of outside of their 
own borders — Vermont and Ohio — I put Ver- 
mont first merely because it is older than Ohio, 
but for that reason, I might add, parenthetically, 
that it is probably no " fresher." Not that I 
think Ohio is fresh, but I am inclined to think 
everybody will agree with the proposition that 
it is '' nervy." There are not so many Vermont 
people in office as there are Buckeyes, but the 
sole reason is that there is not so many of them. 
I presume you have heard me remark that there 
were only two men in Washington public Hfe 
who always get what they want, One is Sena- 
tor , of Ohio, and the other Senator 

, of Vermont. It will pay you to keep 

close to General Henry. He is a typical Green 
Mountain Boy, but I do think someone ought 
to warn the authorities that a Vermonter and 
an Ohioan have formed an alliance. In this 
country that would mean securing all there was 
in the bakery and then lugging away the bakery. 
This is no particular allusion to the residents of 
Vermont and Ohio. But it happens in this 
instance, I know both parties to the case. Me- 
thinks I scent danger to someone or something. 
'' If some new office should be created by Con- 
gress at the coming Session, it is a safe bet, that 
either a Vermonter or an Ohioan would get it. 
For instance they created some new offices in the 

I02 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Philippines. Judge Taft, an Ohioan, was made 
head of the Commission. Mason S. Stone, a 
Vermonter, was made superintendent of schools, 
the two most important offices in the Islands. 
I haven't heard of their stealing the Island yet. 
But you will recall that they sent some Hoosiers 
down to Cuba in various official positions, and 
so far as anybody has been able to learn the only 
thing they did leave was the Island. There is 
some evidence to prove that they had plans laid 
to bring that to New York and sell it for a 
summer resort. 

" It is said that English people have always 
regarded a Vermonter with suspicion. I think 
they have, too, because I have noticed that they 
always examine a Vermonter's baggage when- 
ever he goes into the Dominion. 
'' Sorry I'm not in a letter-writing humor to-day 
— the house burned down yesterday, and Willie 
broke his arm, and — but why bother you with 
my little troubles." 

After our call on the Consul, the Colonel said: 
*' We will now go down to the 

U. S. Immigration Commission OfQ.ce. 

" What's that ?" I asked. " Why, don't you 
know that every immigrant that enters this port 
for the United States has to pass an examina- 
tion?" 

103 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

" No, I don't, how would I know ? I didn't 
think we'd have a right to come up here and 
say who could and who couldn't land." 

" Oh, yes, the Canadian Government are quite 
willing, and show our Commission all the courte- 
sies we could wish. The Canadian Pacific R. R. 
have even built a commodious immigrant house, 
in which the examinations are held." 

By this time we had reached the office, but 
found no one in but Dave Lehrhaupt, the Inter- 
preter, from Detroit, Mich. The others, whom 
I met afterwards, as you shall see, are John Tho- 
mas, Commissioner, from Ohio; Colonel Horace 
M. Deal, (who had served both terms on 
Governor McKinley's staff), also from Ohio ; Dr. 
Victor G. Heiser, of the Marine Hospital Service, 
R. W. Conradson, of Brooklyn ; J. P. Hicks, of 
Mass.; P. Enright, of Chicago; Wm. Vaughan 
Howard, Statistician, of Miss.; and John Conk- 
lin, of Harrisburg, Penn. 

Rube becomes an immigrant. 

I was so much interested in this new business 
that I got permission to see them examine a 
shipload of immigrants. The Colonel not being 
able to get away from his office, that day, turned 
me over to Dave Lehrhaupt. Dave was a 
character, — the life of the Commission, — but 
before we started down I noticed the Colonel 
104 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

and Dave talking very animatedly together back 
in one corner. 

The Colonel and Dave conspire. 

Every once in a while they'd look over toward 
me, Dave protesting with the Colonel about 
something, and the Colonel assuring Dave that 
it would be all right. I heard him say : " You 
do that now Dave, it will be great ! Don't let 
the others know it, whatever you do." 

Rube is ^' it." 

I had no notion at the time that I was '' it," but 
later developments showed that I was, with a 
large '' I." When they had finished that con- 
versation, Dave said to me : '' Rube, I'll see you 
vusn't kit lost mit — cum vit me to te sheep, vat 
is shust in, und I vill show you how ve oxamina- 
tion tem Emicrationers." 

I " cum wit Tave " — all the way down he 
" oxsplained apout tem new sitizens." 

When we reached that great immigrant house 
and found about 300 of the worst specimens of 
humanity I ever saw, I asked Dave what they 
were, and he told me if I'd name them, I might 
have them. The inducement wasn't great 
enough for a guess, so I let it go. There they 
were, huddled together like so many goats. 
Dave took me around back, and left me in the 

IC5 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

great room, with this awful congregation, or 
aggregation or 

Conglomeration of nations, 

and went around in front and took a seat with 
the men, whom I learned afterwards were the 
rest of the Commission. 

You should have seen Dave handle the dif- 
ferent languages that flowed by him. He 
mightn't be up in English, but when it came to 
handling a cargo of European jargon, it couldn't 
come too fast for Dave. 

Rube tries to get out. 

While the examinations progressed, all too 
slowly for me, I tried to get out, but every door 
was locked or guarded. I tried to get up to 
where Dave was, but some burly bewhiskered 
wretch from '' Noman's Land," would yell at me, 
and crowd me back, and say in his tongue — I 
suppose — '■ Keep your place in line," which I 
found impossible for a good many reasons, to do, 
so in despair, I went to the furthest end of the 
great room, and disconsolately sat down on a 
bench, and waited for. three hours, until that hall 
was empty, then in half a dozen languages, I was 
told to come on ! 

" My but I was glad to get out," 

'' Get out"; did I say ? well, hardly ! The first 
io6 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

man who stopped me was the doctor — " Here, 
here, what are you doing ? Stop that !" said I 
indignantly, as he began striking me, as though 
to find if I was sound, but do you beUeve it, he 
kept it up — looked at my eyes, wanted me to 
open my mouth — which I did in full force, but 
he paid no attention to my protestations, further 
than to say 

" I'm afraid this man is ' off ' " 

tapping his head — '' we'll have to hold him for 
examination," and the more I protested the 
more convinced the Doctor became. But he 
pushed me along to a line of men, who sat there 
with Dave, who acted as though he had never 
seen me before. '' Here, Dave," said I, " what 
does this mean ?" and that wretch answered me 
back in one of his fourteen languages, while Pat 
Enright, wanted to know how old I was, where 
I was born. 

Mormon or Gentile P 

married or single, how many children I had, 
and where they were. If I had any money — if 
so show it — " No," said I '' I left my pocketbook 
at the hotel, forgot it." 

Hold this man and send him back. 

he's liable to become a public charge !" Worse 
and worse. Next that John Conkling began : 

107 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

" Man or Matron ? What's your business ? 
Have you had the measles ? Did they leave you 
in good health ? Teeth your own or store 
goods ?" ^' Gentlemen, I am an American 
citizen, and I protest this indignity." " Where's 
your papers ?" asked J. P. Hicks. " Haven't 
any — don't need any." " Now see here," said 
Conradson, " We've had enough of this ! Send 
it back ! Its a clear case ! Look at that eye — 
why it is really dangerous — worst case we've 
had." And I "It!" 

'' Here, officer, see that this man is well cared 
for, until the next ship goes back ; we've got to 
deport him," and again the doctor tapped his 
head. 

'* Dave, Dave, help me out ! I'm ' It '—I'll 
give the 

Dinner to the Commission. 

The apologies on all sides were so humble and 
the dinner so good, that I forgave them — especi- 
ally as I knew they were right in saying that it 
was all the fault of '' That Dave Lehrhaupt," 
who in turn never seemed to forget *' Tot tay 
vat Rupe vas got oxaminationed mit tem groud 
of emigrationers." 



1 08 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
OUR AMERICAN CUSTOMS, 

are well looked after at this port by L. L. Penni- 
man, F. W. Elkins and H. F. Titus, all of 
Vermont. The Colonel couldn't understand 
how these positions got away from Ohio. He 
was all the while having a great deal to say 
about the 

'' Buckeye " in Office, 

but couldn't help admitting that the " Buckeye " 
knew how to run his own State — and whenever 
called upon (which was often) — all the others 
quite as well — Queer how a fellow will fight for 
his native state. He may have " left it for years," 
as I have done, but the old love still clings. 

I would be derelict of duty were I to leave 
out that prince of good fellows, 

Colonel Thos. Crockett 

our Vice-Consul, at Riviere du Loup, known up 
here as the '' Cedar Tie King of Canada." 
Some men you like as soon as you meet them. 
Colonel Crockett is one of that sort. I was 
greatly entertained by his story of 

SENATOR PROCTOR'S MOOSE HUNT. 

I can't tell it like he did, and won't spoil it by 
trying, but one point is too good to leave out. 
The Senator came up from Washington, especi- 
109 



The Yankee in Quebec, 

ally for this hunt. The first night they got a 
moose — and the next day another. That 
evening the Colonel told Proctor he must go out 
alone in the boat, with the guide, that he might 
have all the credit for the '' head " if one were 
gotten. As luck would have it the Senator 
soon came in with a fine bull moose. " Happy ? 
You never saw a prouder hunter than the Sena- 
tor, when he came into camp that night. He 
never earned a million that brought as much 
real pleasure ! I could hardly get him to stop 
enjoying himself long enough to go to bed — As 
it was along about two o'clock next morning, I 
heard the Senator stirring. I didn't move, but 
looked out from under my blanket. There was 
the Senator sitting bolt upright on his narrow 
camp bed, near me. I could see him shiver, as 
it was in the fall, and quite cool. First thing I 
knew, the Senator began talking to himself : 
'Oh, how cold I am ! But, oh, how happy.' 
At that he lay down, covered up, and didn't 
move till morning. That was years ago, but the 
Senator can never get over the pleasures of that 
\^ moose hunt." 

Our Vice-Consul at Quebec, is that popular 
General Passenger Agent, 

F. S. Stocking. 
It is really a pleasure, to see the selections our 



The Yankee in Quebec, 

Government has made, in its officers, to repre- 
sent our interests in this country. 



CAP ROUGE VIA STE, FOYE ROAD. 

'' Rube," said the Colonel, early one morning, 
" we are going out to Cap Rouge to-day. You 
know, we promised Fairchild we'd come." 
" Yes," said I, " and that artist friend of his — ■ 
what's his name, oh, I have it, or had it, but 
have promised to forget it." I wasn't going to 
let the Colonel forget it, though, as I had heard 
so much of his magnificent " Sunsets on the St. 
Lawrence," his "Autumns " and " still lifes " — 
and then, on this last line, he, I remembered had 
said, the day we met him in town, that he had 
some thirty years old. — No, it would be too bad 
not to see and his ''Autumns." 

The tourist who goes to Quebec and does 
not dirve out the Ste. Foye road, would be as 
foolish as the man who goes to Rome and leaves 
out St. Peter's. I've driven over more roads 
than would circle the earth if it was not a tenth 
as large as it is, and Ste. Foye is the prettiest 
one of all the number. Now as this is an honest 
expression, I need not stop to tell you that the 
view to the north, from the time you leave the 
city, until you reach Cap Rouge, nine miles 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

away, is one line of beauty. You know, you 
often see in any country, here and there, bits of 
fine scenery, but to drive along Ste. Foye road, is 
as though driving by 

A nine mile canvas 

on which had been painted all these bits. 

The day I met G. M. Fairchild, Jr., I some- 
how located him in a perfect nest of comfort at 
Raven's Cliff 

My mental location was vivid, but far away from 
the real beauty of that location, two hundred 
feet above the St. Lawrence, on a hill that gently 
rises from the river bank to the St. Louis road, 
and quite near to the village of Cap Rouge. As 
we looked out upon the view, from the long 
wide piazza, one could not but feel that Gilbert 
Parker had chosen well the home for writing his 
great story, 

The Seats of the Mighty 

and later on, we could not but again commend 
his fine choice — this time — that of the heroine 
of one of his great novels. We found the author 
• — poet — artist, busily engaged on a painting, he 
was " laying " in. All about him was indication 
of a busy man, but with all his literary and 
artistic work, he has allowed his neighbors to 
choose him as the village magistrate, and for 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

so many other offices, that I instinctively 
thought of my " cousin " Ross of Lorette. 

It is visits to such homes as Raven's CUffe, 
that make the writer of many homes, views and 
situations, wish he had chosen one, instead of 
many subjects. 

In the afternoon Mr. Fairchild took us to the 
fine '' view spots," all about Cap Rouge, point- 
ing out, here and there, places of historic 
interest. 

" See that old ruin there ? Not much left, 
but it was at that spot where the first settlement 
of all this country was made. The Cradle of 
Western Civilization." 

" With the ' rockers ' badly broken," put in 
the Colonel, who had been having such a good 
time that he had had little to say. I can always 
tell when the Colonel is enjoying himself, it's 
when he's not talking. The enjoyment is some- 
times contagious, but not usually, as he talks 
well, but not always apropos. In trying to be 
pleasant he has been known to make 

•^ Bad Breaks 

One day we had called to see a beautiful home. 
We met here a number of fine people, seated 
beneath the shade of a wide spreading English 
hawthorn tree. We were presented, but the 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Colonel did not catch all the names. Of the 
number was a gentleman with, 

As the Colonel thought 

his three pretty daughters. This old gentleman 
and he, were sitting together, a little off from the 
rest, when the Colonel, to be agreeable, said, in 
a low tone — " Pardon me, but tell me please, 
who those beautiful ladies are, why, they're the 
prettiest I've seen in Quebec!" 

" Those three sitting together ? They are from 
Philadelphia and you knevo it !" Poor Colonel, 
I felt sorry for him, he looked so broken up 
over the ill fate of his well meant compliment. 

Toward evening we drove to see the artist of 
the beautiful Autumns, Sunsets and other Still 
Lifes, and were wonderfully repaid. 

The Colonel sees double, 

As we drove away from the artist's studio, and 
turned our horse cityward, I noticed that the 
Colonel was acting a little oddly, just a little you 
know, not much '' off." The *' Sunsets," or the 
''Autumns," or possibly the " Still Lifes " were 
too much for him. The first I noticed it, was 
when he said : '' Rube, I thought we only drove 
one horse out this morning. Where'd we get 
that other one ?" 

114 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

" Well, Colonel, I'm surprised ! It's a good 
thing it was only ' thirty years old,' If it had 
been forty, you'd think we were driving a four 
horse team instead of one." 

The Horse was French. 

" One " — That's all, but ah such a one. 
When we left the stable the liveryman had told 
us, in the morning : *' Gentlemen me zorry, but 
zis is ze ony horse iz lef, all ze rest out — Zis 
is ze good horse if he iz no whipped, if he is 
.whipped, he kicks ze buggy all to ze Icctle pieces, 
and leaves ze people spread over ze road. 
Anozzer zing, you must drive ze horse wiz ze 
vurd of ze mout. If he stop, speak to ze horse 
gently, but no whip ze horse." When we had 
come to within possibly two miles of the city, 
we stopped to catch one of those beautiful land- 
scapes over the Valley of Beauport. I shall 
never forget that one particular view point. It 
was very fine, but one may become surfeited 
even with beauty. When we were ready to drive 
off I said : " Get up — Go on — Come horsey, dear 
horsey, move up, it's nearly dark." But the 
'' dear horsey " is asleep, he does not move a 
muscle, don't even wag an ear, but stands com- 
placently. I was getting out of patience trying 
to drive by " ze vurd of mout," and would have 
struck " ze horse," struck him viciously, but I 

115 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

did not want to be *' spread over ze road." 
People passed us by and wondered why we were 
holding such an animated conversation with 
only a horse, but said nothing, although we 
asked several of them what was good for an 
animal that was too partial to View Points, but 
they only smiled and said '' Bon Soir," The 
Colonel got out, and pushed at the buggy, while 
I pushed on the lines, and said '' Go on !" I 
learned afterwards that the horse thought all the 
time I was saying " Whoa on" and that is the 
reason he so persistently " whoad." Finally a 
linguist came along, and in one word helped us 
out. All he said to that kicking French horse of 
ours was 

" Marche Don !" 

and off we were. 

After that we always had a little talk with the 
horse, before we engaged him, to see that he 
was an English-spea.kmg animal. 



MOUNTAIN HILL 

Isn't that a combination! It is so called, the 
Colonel says, from the fact that when you go up, 
you think it a Mountain, and when you come down 
it's only a Hill, so it's called " Mountain Hill " 
and you can take your choice as it's all the same 
price. When I watched the horses draw their 
ii6 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

heavy loads up this winding way, I thought of a 
new expression for strength. You know you've 
often heard '' Strong as a horse !" " My expres- 
sion is even stronger than that. It is 

Strong as a Quebec horse, 

" There's one of the best known old hotels in 
the city," said the Colonel one day as we were 
going up this hill past the Mountain Hill House. 
"It's not so high priced, but they say it's all right. 
Often people who are to stay in the city any 
length of time, go there to learn French, as it is 
the best French-speaking hotel in Quebec. 
That don't mean that English is not spoken by 
any means. You can have either. It's much 
easier to learn French with French surroundings 
and with good, reasonable service you have the 
whole combination here." 

The Post Oflace and Le Chien D'Or 

are right at the top of this hill. You reach it 
by going around the street or by 35 iron steps 
right at the post office. 

As we were going up Mountain Hill we came 
to some stairs — not the ones by the post office, 
those others, you know, about half way up the 
hill, the ones where the boys slide down the 
bannisters until the rails are 
119 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
As " Slick " as an Indiana horse trader. 

'' What's this, Colonel ?" 

" Those are the stairs leading down to Lower 
Town called the ^' Break Neck Stairs." That 
little street at the bottom is Little Champlain, 
you've heard so much about. By the way, 
Rube, while we're here, I want to show you that 

Cul de Sac 

I've been telling you about?' 

As I'd never seen one before and wanted to 
see everything in town, I said, "Yes, Colonel, 
take me to see the Cul de Sac, what's it like " 

" Wait, you'll see," and that — well, we'll not 
name him here — took me down those stairs, and 
on down Little Champlain ; round by the old 
Market House, to which I was taken the day 
*' 48 " arrested me for taking the steps ; up a 
little distance to where the street stops short off, 
and then turns at right angle east, and there he 
stopped, and said : " There it is, Rube !" 
" Where " All I could see was a corner and 
the words " Cul de Sac " on the wall, and all 
that fellow did was to ask me if I could '' see." 

'^ Yes," said I, *' I can see everything but the 
point of this walk " — and he only laughed ! 
Rube is arrested for taking- the steps 

The day I had this picture of the Break Neck 
Steps taken, everything was in readiness when 
120 




BANNISTER SLIDING ON BREAK-NECK STEPS 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Policeman No. 48, on inquiry of the photo- 
grapher found who was to blame for the crowd, 
tapped me on the shoulder, and said : '* You 
come with me to the Station House !" 

" What have I done ?" I asked, scared like, as 
Fd never been arrested before in my life. 

^' It's not what you've done, but what you're 
going to do. See that mob ! Come on !" 

I went. When we got to the Station, No. 48 
explained the matter to the sergeant, who 
wanted to know if Chief Frank Pennee knew 
about it — " No," said I, " but if you'll call him on 
the 'phone, he soon will." 

He was called, and I stated the case, when 
that Chief of both police and good fellows, said : 
*' Why, yes. Rube, go on, take the steps, take 
the whole town if you want it, and welcome !" 
Now, wasn't that nice of him ! If you knew 
him, though, you'd not be surprised. I wish we 
could get such a chief in New York — but then 
I'm not saying anything away from home. 



RUBE SEES QUEBEC FOOTBALL 

I went out one afternoon to see our Vice- 
Consul, Frank Stocking, play football. He 
called it football, but you never saw it played in 
123 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

such an odd way as these teams played it ! They 
actually played it zvith their feet — Now think of 
that ! 

Football with the feet. 

Why I was so surprised that I had to remark 
it to Frank, and stranger still, as I stood there 
talking with him, before the game opened, I said, 
" Frank, you boys don't seem to be ready for 
this game !" 

^' Why — yes we are — see, they are now lining 
up." 

" I know, but where's the ambulance, and 
where are your doctors, with their bandages, 
splints, saws and football paraphernalia gener- 
ally ?" 

" I don't understand your reference ! 'Ambu- 
lance,' ' Doctors.' No, Rube, that's too much 
for me !" 

" What ! Do you mean to say you don't 
have these things on the field before the game 
starts ?" He only looked at me in amazement, 
and I had to tell him how down at Yale, Hack- 
ensack. Harvard, Princeton and Harlem, where 
the game is played in a civilized, cultured way, 
that to begin a game of 

Football without the Ambulance 

would be the very height of heartlessness to the 
players. 

124 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

He walked away with the blank look still upon 
his face, and just then the game began. 

" Basket Ball at a Female College ?" 

Well, yes, that was about as near as I can 
describe the way they played. I mean as to the 
gentle manner in which they played. I didn't 
see a single '' wedge," and the whole team didn't 
once pile on top of one man for the ostensible 
purpose of keeping him from running to make a 
" goal," with the result of flattening him out, 
preparatory to going to the hospital or cemetery. 
Nor was there any fighting or pulling of hair, or 
any of the exciting features of a real game of 
football as played by cultured players at our 
seats of learning. Why, it was just as though 
the Gladiators of old Rome had come out before 
the vast assembly of the populace, and fought 
with 

Stuffed clubs instead of with swords. 

But then possibly the fact of the calling in life 
of these players may, to some extent, account 
for the tameness of the game. They were not 
college students. No, they were not used to 
hazings, cane rushes and such like manly games 
of muscle hardening exercise. No, they were 
only soldiers from the Citadel, on one side, and 

125 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

citizen boys on the other — boys who had been to 
the 

Boer War 

instead of to College. To be sure they played 
good football, as far as making goals, but then 
it was too tame. During the whole hour and a 
half there wasn't a single arm or leg or head 
broken or an ear pulled of¥. In fact the only 
thing that made it seem at all like a game of 
football was the torrent of rain in which it was 
played. 

I nearly forgot to say that Frank promised to 
let me play as substitute if any of the players got 
killed. But as soon as I saw the game started, 
I knew that I'd die of old age before I'd get to 
play '^ substitute " on a Quebec football team. 



THE COLONEL TALKS TO RUBE ON COATS 
OF ARMS. 

^' Colonel, I never was in a place where there 
were so many pretty breast pins as Quebec !'' 
said I one day, out on the Terrace. 

*' Breast pins — breast pins — what do you 
mean ?" 

'' Why, look there at that lady, she has one 
on," said I indicating a beautiful woman attired 
in most excellent taste, not far from where we 
sat. 

126 



The Yankee in Quebec, 

" Oh, I see what you mean. That's a coat of 
arms. Let me see — I have it. The one the lady 
is wearing is the 'Quebec City.' A female figure 
seated at the foot of Cape Diamond, upon which 
Quebec is built. The motto is in Latin, but if I 
remember, the English is : ' Strong by nature, 
she grows by industry.' " 

" Beautiful pin ! beautiful sentiment ! I tell 
you, Colonel, when I get back to New York I'm 
going up to Tiffany's and get one, just to keep 
for dear old Quebec." 

'' Tiffany — Tiffany, you don't need to do' that, 
why J. F. Dobbin, right next to the Quebec 
News Co., has them and many, many other 
'Coats' besides, yes, and souvenirs of all kinds; 
Golden Dogs, jewellery, etc., and what you'll 
find, is, his prices are nothing Tiffanist even if 
his stock is the best in Quebec." 

What I got at Dobbin's gave more real 
pleasure to the folks at home than anything I 
brought back from my trip. 



HACKMEN OF QUEBEC 

Where tourists are wont to go in large num- 
bers, there the inevitable hackman is much in 
evidence. Quebec is no exception. There are 
all sorts here, no better or no worse, than else- 
127 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

where. I asked one the fare to a given point 
one afternoon — "$1.50" said he. 

" Too much !" said I. 

"$i.oo then," said he. 

" Bonjour !" said I. The very next one I 
met, must have either mistaken me for a native, 
or a 

Thirty cent Party 

as that was all he asked to drive me to the first 
man's $1.50 destination. 

There is one thing certain, if your time is 
limited, don't walk, get a carriage or a caleche, 
the driver knows just what to see, how to see it, 
and if he is a good one — and most of them are 
well informed and courteous — he will show you 
in one day, what you could not find in a week, 
and you will see it, besides, to a far better advan- 
tage than if you try to " go it alone." By all 
means ride, else you will always regret not seeing 
Quebec as it must be seen to get the full worth 
of your trip. The best drive is out St. Foye 
Road to Cap Rouge and back by the St. Louis. 
It is worth the price of the visit to Quebec. 

THE STREET CAR SYSTEM OF QUEBEC. 

The street car system of Quebec is such that 
very many of the most important places may be 
reached by trolley — Montmorency Falls and Ste. 

128 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Anne de Beaupre, are reached by the cars of 
this company. The day we went out to see the 
Falls the Colonel, who gets short of breath going 
up hill, complained greatly of that long, straight 
up walk from the car line to the top, overlooking 
the tumble of water; but he can't complain next 
year, as this enterprising company are preparing 
to put up an incline road, so that lazy folks and 
the rest of us can ride up — my, that will be worth 
going all the way out to enjoy. By the way, 
among the changes since our visit to the Falls, 
Holt, Renfrew & Co., will change their 

A Herd of Buffalo, 

from Indian Lorette to the Haldimand House 
Park, at the Falls. Which house has been put 
in thorough repair — not changed in looks, how- 
ever, from what it was when the Duke of Kent 
lived in it. This will now be a most delightful 
place to spend a few days or longer, visiting 
points of interest in and about the Falls. 



CITY GOVERNMENT OF QUEBEC 

'' What is the form of government here in 
Quebec, Colonel ?" 

" Well, about as our own with the exception 
that the 30 City Councilmen are elected by the 
129 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

voters, and then those Councilmen, and not the 
voters, choose the Mayor, while we vote direct 
for Mayor as well as for Aldermen. A mayor 
may serve as long as he is chosen, here, and not 
for one, two, three or four years, as with us, 
why, 

S. N. Parent 

the present Mayor of Quebec, has been in for 
eight years, and is such a success that you hear 
all the parties wishing that he might get a life 
term. The city never had such a business 
administration as since Parent has been in." 

'' I tell you, Colonel, that's refreshing to hear, 
coming as I do from New York, where the City 
Fathers are not — well I'm not saying anything, 
away from home Colonel, — but it is really re- 
freshing, I say, to find 

A good Parent 

up here at the head of the family, and they are 
wise in keeping him in, as long as possible." 

'' Yes, Rube, and not only is he a good Mayor, 
but an all round good citizen. I never saw a 
man quite iso popular, unless it is Laurier, the 
Premier. Say, you ought to hear that Laurier 
speak! Honestly, Rube, I don't believe we have 
his equal, unless it's Foraker." The Colonel 
knew my partiality for Joe, and so modified his 
130 



The Yankee in Quebec 

)raise. " He hasn't Foraker's fire, he's more 
ike Daniels, of Virginia. His voice is soft and 
)leasing, and he speaks equally well in either 
^rench or English. I doubt if we have had an 
\merican from Lincoln's time to the present, 
vho has more beautifully portrayed that great 
nan's character than has Laurier. But then 
coming back to the Mayor, you know how you 
vere speaking, the other day, about the many 
lew improvements you saw? well, they tell me 
lere that most of it has been done under 

Parent's Administration 

The man is the most indomitable worker I 
;ver saw, with administrative ability that is mar- 
velous. You know, besides being Mayor, he is 
dso Prime Minister of this Province." 

''And Colonel, I notice another thing, no 
natter what is done on the New he don't efiface 
he Old — that part which is the attractive feature 
)f Quebec." 

Mr. D. Albee Patten, Editor and Director of 
he Anglo-American edition of the International 
jazette, (London, New York and Montreal), 
vhich is now devoting a great deal of attention 
;o Canadian topics, to attract here tourists and 
md capital seeking sound investment, while up 
lere last summer, wrote an interesting article on 
Quebec, which was published in September, 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

and attracted wide attention, and, referring to 
the efficient administration of Mayor Parent, and 
the " New " part ol the city, said of the new, 
handsome City Hall : 

'' Think of building a large, beautiful City Hall 
and no one retiring — independent — from the 
''job!" Well, this is a fact here, and the new 
City Hall, an architectural perfection, modeled 
after the famous Holyrood Castle, and costing 
only $140,000, occupies the centre of an impos- 
ing square ; truly a lasting tribute to Mayor 
Parent, who personally inspected every contract 
and compelled its fulfillment. Perhaps the sine 
qua non of the high regard in the hearts of his 
people which Mayor Parent enjoys will be 
suggested in mentioning the free-will ofifering of 
the citizens to him of a full — official robe — figure 
oil painting of their Mayor, which now graces 
the wall of the Council chamber, over which His 
Worship, the Honorable S. N. Parent, presides." 

In New York City it would have cost at least 
$1,000,000, but I'm not saying, etc., etc. 

I was glad to hear that my favorite old city 
was in such good hands, as I sort o' felt it would 
be well looked after, should I have to leave town. 

I met 

Lieut. -Governor Sir Louis Jette. 

while in Quebec. I don't know what he has to 
132 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

do, in the governing line, I never could get 
Canadian politics and offices quite straight, but 
I do know that I've met few men more agreeable, 
as a gentleman, than this Lieutenant-Governor 
Jette, and there was 

Solicitor-General Chas. Fitzpatrick 

who lives in Quebec. Why, the minute he 
grasped my hand I mentally said : '' Ouch ! 
here's a man as is a man." One who throws his 
soul right into the greeting. When General 
Henry told me how popular Canada's Solicitor- 
General was, I said : " Consul, Canada can well 
congratulate itself ! 

" Speaking of popular men," said General 
Henry, '' you should meet 

Lord Minto, Governor-General of Canada. 

now stopping at the Governor-General's quarters 
at the Citadel." And the next day the Consul 
and I called to see him. I saw at once why Lord 
Minto was a guest always welcome in Quebec. 
When I left Canada and had summed up the men 
in office I had been fortunate in meeting, I think 
that every one of them could have had my unani- 
mous vote, irrespective of party. I guess zvorth 
counts far more than pull up there — but I'm not 
saying anything away from home. 

133 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
MR. ULRIC BARTHE 

I should have included in Quebec's Lite- 
rati. He has written largely on commercial 
subjects, being an expert on water power and 
manufacturing generally. He was for years the 
editor of the old Electeur, the Liberal Organ, also 
editor of the Semaine Ccmmercial, of Quebec, 
which he resigned to take his present position 
of Secretary and Treasurer of the great Quebec 
Cantilever Bridge Company, now erecting a five 
million dollar railroad bridge over the St. Law- 
rence, a short distance west of Quebec. 

And just here I may add that one day the 
Colonel and I were going up Baude street, when 
a fine looking gentleman somewhere around mid- 
dle life, passed — '' There's a man. Rube, that you 
missed in your Quebec Literati. He's got more 
Ph.D.'s, B.A.'s and A.B.C.'s, than most any one 
in town, and has written enough for another of 
your catalogues — in both prose and poetry. 
He's one of the best known educationalists in 
Canada. Yes, Rube, to leave out 

Mr. J. M. Harper 

would be to prove that you are not as well 
informed as you think you are." I didn't tell the 
Colonel that he was not the first one to speak of 
this errata, which I now gladly correct. 

134 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

" And again, Rube, there's the 

Hon. Felix Carbray 

over there looking into that book-store window," 
said the Colonel, pointing out a fine-looking gen- 
tleman, who might have been mistaken for one 
of our own Senators. '' You always see him 
around books, for while not a writer himself, he 
has long been known as one of the great patrons 
of the authors, as his extensive library will evi- 
dence. He is possibly the best Celtic scholar in 
the Dominion, if not in America, being one of 
the few who write that now almost obsolete lan- 
guage fluently. He has held many important 
positions, both by election and by appointment. 
For years he has been Consul for Portugal, and 
is now the Dean of the Quebec Consulates. He 
is a member of the Harbour Commission. He 
was in the Quebec Assembly from 1881 to 1886, 
and was again chosen without opposition and sat 
from 1892 to 1897. 

" You see. Rube, you will find that you have 
missed many a Quebec notable." 

**Well, Colonel," said I, "it's no easy matter to 
write of a city with so many worthy of note, and 
not of necessity miss very many of them, but 
I'm glad you called my attention to one so 
worthy of mention." 

135 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
Tablets, 

We were going up toward the Citadel one day 
when the Colonel called my attention to a tablet 
on one of those old stone buildings, that you 
have to pass in that lane like driveway. We 
stopped to read: 

*' Placed to their memory by several American 
Children. Within this building and under this 
tablet, repose the remains of 13 soldiers of 
General Montgomery's Army, who were killed 
the 31st of December, 1775." 

" Colonel, wouldn't it be a good notion for 
some other ' Several American Children,' to 
follow the example of the ones who put up this 
tablet, to remove that old board sign on the side 
of the hill and put a respectable one at the real 
spot of Montgomery's fall? All nations want to 
be accurate and should especially have marks to 
designate the spot where even an enemy fell, if 
for no other reason than to prove that he did 
fall." The Colonel quite agreed with me. 

Briefs 
THE COMING OF THE DUKE AND DUCHESS. 

During my visit in Quebec the event para- 
mount was the coming of their Royal 
Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Corn- 
wall and York on September 17. Streets 

J36 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

were being paved, the old walls of the 
city repaired, houses painted, lawns put in the 
smoothness of velvet, Committees preparing a 
programme to fill in every hour of the two gala 
days, and all with the prospect of the event 
proving the most remarkable since the visit of 
the Duke's father, King Edward, then Prince of 
Wales, forty-one years ago. 

I am indebted for many business courtesies to 
the firm of Auger & Son, well known through- 
out the States. Through them I learned much 
of the business ways of Quebec. 

While trade in that city may not be carried 
through with the rush so necessary in some of 
our great marts, yet it is fairly prompt and 
thorough, and now that it is becoming one of 
the great grain centres, it will soon get on that 
greater promptness. 

Quebec has not yet waked up, 

to her possibilities. Her location, naturally 
good, has not been taken advantage of, but once 
she begins to find what she really is, the strides 
of advancement will be gigantic. 

Her people send their money away for ques- 
tionable silver mines, while an undeveloped 

Gold Mine 

lies within her borders. Already this richer 
137 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

mine is beginning to be worked, a little on the 
surface ; new shafts are being sunk and " pay 
dirt" found. When the great bridge across the 
St. Lawrence is completed, there will be no hold- 
ing back of the rapid developing of Quebec. 
Money will pour in for investments, this old 
town will put on the airs of a western city, and 
she will take her place among her sisters, that her 
position so fitly entitles her to take. 

Timber Lands 

Dr. Wm. Delaney, of the Crown Lands De- 
partment, gave me much valuable information 
in the matter of timber lands of the Province of 
Quebec. He told me how many millions of 
acres the government still held, but at the rate it 
is being taken up at the annual sales there will 
soon be little left. Timber lands are not sold by 
the acre, but by the mile. It is not sold, either, 
sort o' leased. The bidder selects a tract that 
he wants, and bids for it at the annual auction 
sale. This licence holds good for one year, and 
each year he must pay $3.00 per mile for 
renewal. Besides this he pays 65 cents per M. 
feet of lumber sawed, 65 cents per cord of pulp 
wood cut, and so much per telegraph pole or 
railroad tie taken from the ^^ limit." The foun- 
138 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

dations of vast fortunes are being laid by buying 
these limits to hold. 

I saw a number of these limits of well selected 
timber — spruce and cedar — that can be bought 
at a price that will prove a five-fold increase inside 
as many years. 

He wasn't a Colonel 

Just as the book reached this stage, I chanced 
upon a strange meeting. It was that of M. T. 
Shine. When he was introduced to me as from 
Kentucky, I said: "Very glad to meet you, 
Colonel !" 

'' Pm no Colonel," said he. '' What, and from 
Kentucky ?" I could not realize for some 
minutes, the phenomenon. No, this man is only 
a Judge. He said he was lonesome down home, 
so came to Quebec. I proved a point raised by 
my " Colonel," who had contended that Ken- 
tucky had no men of prominence who did not 
have some military title. 

Get Guide Books. 

To see Quebec properly the first thing you 
should do, after registering, is to get guide 
books, and read up the history of the places you 
are to visit. There are two excellent ones here 
— get both, as one may give a point not men- 

139 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

tioned by the other, and the cost is so trifling 
that you cannot afford to lose a single point of 
interest. 

They have a care for each other, 

There is nothing that will so clearly indicate 
the heart character of a people, as when death 
calls away one of their number. I could not but 
notice this heart feeling shown at a funeral held 
a few days before I left Quebec. Although 
E. C. Whiting was not rich, only an accountant, 
yet his funeral was so largely attended, that the 
procession of men walking extended for many 
blocks — and in the procession were all classes, 
rich and poor. It was pleasing to notice that the 
hurry and struggle of life had not blotted out 
here, that beautiful beatitude " Love Thy Neigh- 
bor." 

Weddings, 

are also a feature — especially so in the country, 
among the well-to-do farmers. After the 
ceremony, the bridal tour is taken by the bride 
and groom, with often a procession of carriages 
accompanying them. They put in the day visit- 
ing friends all about the country for miles, and 
then at night begin the festivities, that sometimes 
last for two or three days. Occasionally the 
good parish father objects to the dancing, then 

140 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

there is trouble. While I was up there a young 
couple were married. All preparations were 
ready for a great ball, to celebrate the occasion. 
The priest objected, and when he heard that his 
objections were overruled, and that the music 
had started up, he at once told the sexton and' 

" The Sexton tolled the bell/' 

It did sound gruesome, the " fiddles " going to 
the accompaniment of the doleful church bell 
hard by, — but the ball won out, as the old 
sexton couldn't compete with the happy wedding 
dancers. 

Taxes 

Quebec don't tax property direct, but on the 
rental value. Two houses of the same intrinsic 
worth, equally well located, one may pay much 
more to the treasurer than the other by reason of a 
higher rent receipt. The Colonel says this is 
bad on the assessor as it gives him little chance 
of favoritism — "for revenue only." 

There are no meat markets, as we know them, 
in Quebec. Fresh meats of all kinds must be 
purchased in one of the six markets, and never 
from " the little store around the corner " or 
from a wagon. 

You never saw such a city as Quebec. It 
141 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

don't have fires like we do. Why, I didn't see 
Fire Engine 

during my whole stay. I asked the Colonel the 
cause of all this '^ coolness " and he said — (Don't 
know how true it is, as the Colonel told me so 
many odd things) that : '^ Quebec saves up her 
fires and has them all at once; why, she has been 
known to burn i,6oo houses at a single '' burning 
bee,' and that was in 1845, before they had very 
many to spare, either. Then again. Rube, you 

have noticed that Quebec has very few ." 

The Colonel, when he told me this, had that 
blank filled up with a certain nation or people 
once very prominent in the early school histories, 
but I won't mention the nation for it might think 
me disrespectful of their business methods — at 
any rate Quebec has scarcely any fires. 

(Second Edition, — Carefully as I put this, I 
have already been called to account for it from 
a far away western city. My correspondent says: 
" You have no right to speak so ill of my race !" 
He said a number of other things, and said them 
in a way that wouldn't be proper to give here. 
I tell you they were zvarm ! This may be taken 
for a joke, but odd as it may seem, it is true.) 



142 



I 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
HOW TO GET FROM NEW YORK TO QUEBEC. 

I have been asked already many times, for the 
best route to take from New York to Quebec. 
If all questions were as easily answered as this 
I would gladly quit worrying. Before my visit 
to that city I looked upon it as an out of the 
way place — coming over certain routes it is, but 
when I answer the oft' asked question, as to 
which is the best way, you will at once see for 
yourself, when I tell you that you have but to 
go to the New York, New Haven and Hartford 
Station at 42 Street in New York city, take ? 
train at 4 o'clock P.M., and arrive in Quebec the 
following morning. It is absolutely not as much 
trouble, coming by this route, as it would be to 
go from Brooklyn to Mount Vernon, on the 
upper edge of New York city. I might have 
even said, easier than going from one end of 
Greater New York to the other. Then again, 
when is added to the easy access, the beautiful 
scenery of the journey, up through Connecticut 
into Massachussetts 

OVER THE BOSTON AND MAINE, AND 
QUEBEC CENTRAL RY. 

via Springfield and Sherbrooke, with its comfort- 
able cars and unsurpassed service, without 
change of cars, you will see both the ease of 
access and the comfort of this route. I would 

143 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

tell you besides, that if you want to go to some 
of the finest summer resorts in America, that you 
can reach them by this same 

Quebec Central and its Connections 

It traverses a country of beautiful lakes and 
rivers in the most pleasant v^ay, to the most 
pleasant places. But then it is not my purpose 
to tell you about these places. 

What I want you to do is to go to Quebec 

I speak thus, as I would have thanked any one 
for the advice I give. 

I found Quebec only by accident, and the 
absolute happiness of my visit there makes me 
feel that my mission in life is to send every one 
I can to that charming old city. If you can 
discern truth in written words, you v^ill know 
that I am writing this from the heart, and with 
not so much as one penny's gain by your going. 
I know that when you have seen it, as I saw it, 
you will say as I say, that for real joy there is 

No other city in the Western Hemisphere 

that can even in a small measure compare with 
it. There are many — in fact, few less — more 
architecturally beautiful, but no other one has 
the combination here found. Views unsurpass- 
ed, rivers, islands, falls, valleys and mountains, 
144 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

all within a near radius, while the city itself is 
one vast volume of romantic history, and its 
people are most delightful to know. 



VALADICTORY. 

When I thought to write my impressions of 
Quebec, and to lend you my eyes through which 
to see the old place, I wondered could I write a 
one hundred page pamphlet, and told the printer 
that it would not reach beyond that limit. I 
have lightly touched a point of interest here and 
there; told you of men worthy of volumes; told 
of them oft in a single sentence ; have let you 
look at the bare edge of many a sea over which 
you might sail long and pleasantly ; have taken 
you to the mouth of a mine and told you that 
here lies vast stores of wealth undug, and yet 
with these light touches, or in many, very many 
cases unnoted points worthy of note, and yet, I 
say, my little book is more than double the size 
I promised to give. 

When first I thought to write, it was, " What 
can I put in ?" At the close it is " what can I 
leave out ?" 

All books have an end, or have had, until now. 
This one has none. I have tried hard, very hard 
to reach an end, a place to stop, but the effort 

145 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

is a useless one, and so, I'll simply quit writing, 
as the oarsman stops rowing. He stops rowing, 
but the boat drifts and drifts, and though he is 
lost to view he still moves on. 

Dear Old Quebec, Good-by. I came to your 
gates a stranger. I came for ties of wood, and 
carry back ties more enduring than stone — ties 
of the heart. For every courtesy I thank you, 
and assure you that as long as memory is vouch- 
safed me, so long will you hold a loving place in 
my inmost affection. Would that I might speak 
all I feel, but language is meagre and fails my 
wish. If you could read my heart, you would 
know how hard it is to say — Quebec — Good-by. 



^ 



146 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Part Second. 



Death of President McKinley and 
the heartfelt sympathy of the Cana= 
dians. 



The visit of the Duke and Duchess 
of Cornwall and York— now Prince 
and Princess of Wales. 



Rube visits the Lakes and hunts 
moose and caribou, with no ill effects 
to the moose and caribou whatever. 



Rube does some photographing at 
Roberval, that is he thought he was 
photographing. 



Trip down the Saguenay. 

147 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Rube plays as "Substitute" in a 
game of "Lacrosse", with serious 
results to the " Substitute ". 



Tells of Musical Quebec. He finds 
a genius. 



The Comodore tells Rube the "Aig 
Flip " story. 



Talks about Home Folks. 



Ladies of Quebec. 



Rube visits Montreal and gets lost 
in its oddly named streets. 



Hears Miss Canada and Uncle 
Sam's talk on "duty". 



Souvenir to H. M. Ships. 

148 




DUKE AND DUCHESS OF CORNWALL AND YORK 



From the famous photograph taken at Lord Stratheona's by the leading 
photographers of Canada 

WM. NOTMAN & SON, MONTREAL 



Rube Still in Quebec. 

When I had finished singing ^' Good-by Sweet 
Heart, Good-by," and thought : 'It may be for 
years and it may be forever," and a few others 
in the minor key, I found that I didn't have to 
go so soon after all, and " here I be " yet in 
Quebec. 

The rapidity with which the first edition was 
written, printed, published and sold, was kindly 
termed a " Literary feat." It was begun at 
I p.m. Aug. 5th ; the manuscript given to the 
printers the morning of Aug. 13th ; it left the 
binders on the 3rd of September, and the whole 
edition sold by 11.45 ^•^- September 5th. One 
hour and a quarter to spare of the month. 
^ The newspapers of Quebec have without 
exception treated my little volume with the 
utmost kindness, for which I am most heartily 
appreciative. 

149 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

The only criticism made was that it was light 
of texture, which is most flattering, as it proves 
that I succeeded in doing what I aimed to do. 

I once wrote on " The center of gravity of the 
population of the United States,' and the critics 
were loud in their praise of the depth of the 
work, but it didn't live a week, poor thing. I 
gave it a respectable burial along with the rest 
of my " deep works " and quit that style, as I 
found that a deep writer too soon accumulates a 
large library of his own writings, and with a few 
happy exceptions, they receive more praise than 
dollars. 

The world is so full of the sombre that, regard- 
less of either praise or dollars, some of us must 
needs write in lighter vein to even things up. 

I want many to know of dear old Quebec, and 
somehow, to reach the '' many " one dare not go 
too deep, lest the readers grow tired before they 
cross the St. Lawrence. 

So much of interest and worthy of note has 
occurred in the comparatively few days since my 
little volume was so kindly received, that to write 
of them all would require a book with more 
pretentions than could be designated by *' little." 

It had scarce left the press when word flashed 
around the world that 

Our Beloved President, Wm. McKinley. 

had been wounded to death. I shall never forget 

150 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

the kindly sympathy of the Canadians at that 
time. Could you of my countrymen who look 
upon Canada as a foreign land, have seen as I 
saw the tear dimmed eyes of these grand people, 
when death closed the career of that good man, 
you would never again see the line — even an 
imaginary one — that separates us. I felt as 
never before that we are brothers in everything 
that goes to bind hearts together in loving affec- 
tion. The days between the wounding and the 
hour when he passed away with '' Thy will be 
done " upon his lips, were earnest days. Prayers 
were offered up in all churches that his life might 
be spared — and when the end came flags were 
put at half mast, and sorrow seemed as genuine 
as though he had been their own ruler. Had 
the Duke of Cornwall and York not already won 
my great admiration for his manly bearing, he 
would have won it the day of his reception at the 
Parliament Building, when, in reply to Mayor 
Parent's beautiful address of welcome, he closed 
with this kind tribute. '' I take this, the first 
opportunity, to express in common with the 
whole civilized world, my intense horror at the 
detestable crime which has plunged into mourn- 
ing the great friendly nation to the south of us, 
and deprived them of their great First 
Magistrate. The Duchess and I heartily join 
with you in sympathy towards a people with 

151 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

whom we are connected by ties of kinship and 
esteem, and our hearts go out to the wife and 
family of the late distinguished and beloved 
President." 

The words were kind but the beautiful manner 
and tone in which they were spoken were even 
more so. 

Apropos of the Duke and Duchess, 

They have come and gone, but the impression 
they made, not only upon their own subjects, 
but upon all with whom they came in contact, 
is one that will ever remain. The " airs " we 
are prone to accord to royalty was entirely lack- 
ing in these two charming people. They -were 
kind even to simplicity, and left in every heart a 
love that cannot but bear fruit in aU the years 
to come. Whether they remain Duke and 
Duchess or become King and Queen of England, 
they have made loving friends of all Canada. 
As a souvenir of their visit I give here the 

OFFICIAL PROGRAM. 

of the festivities held in Quebec, in honor of 
Their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess 
of Cornwall and York, Monday, Sept. i6th. 
12 o'clock.— Arrival at the King's wharf of Their 
Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess 
of Cornwall and York, received in Quebec 

^52 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

by His Excellency, The Governor General, 
Lord Minto, and the R. H. Sir Wilfrid 
Laurier. 

The Royal visitors will immediately proceed to 
the Parliament Buildings, passing through 
Champlain street, Champlain market, St. 
Peter, Mountain Hill,, Du Fort, St. Louis, 
Grande Allee and Dufferin Avenue, where a 
Choir, composed of three thousand children, 
will sing ** God Save the King," accom- 
panied by Military Bands, as the Royal 
Visitors reach the Parliament Buildings. 

12.30. — Address of Welcome, in the name of the 
Mayor anad citizens of Quebec, presented in 
the room of the Legislative Council to Their 
Royal Highnesses, answered by H.R.H. the 
Duke of Cornwall. 

1.30. — Departure from the Parliament Buildings, 
singing by the children's choir of the 
anthem '' Chant National," with Bands' 
accompaniment, on the passage of Their 
Royal Highnesses on their way to the 
Citadel. 

2 o'clock. — Lunch at the citadel with His 
Excellency the Governor General. 

3.30. — Visit of Their Royal Highnesses to the 
Laval University. Presentation of address 
by the Clergy. University Degrees con- 

153 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

ferred on H. R. H. The Duke of Cornwall 
and York. 

7.30. — State dinner at the citadel. 

9.30. — From the King's bastion, the Duke and 
the Duchess, accompanied by H. E. Lord 
Minto, the R. H. Sir Wilfrid Laurier, the 
Honorable S. N. Parent, and the guests 
invited at the dinner, will listen to the open 
air popular concert given on the Dufferin 
Terrace by one thousand singers and two 
hundred and fifty instrumentalists, under the 
joint direction of Bandmaster J. Vezina and 
Choir-master J. A. Paquet. 

10 to 12 p.m.. — Illumination of the City, of Beau- 

port, L'Ange-Gardien, Island of Orleans 
and Levis, and grand pyrotechnic display on 
the Dufferin Terrace, and on board the 
Man-of-war on the river. 

SEPTEMBER 17th. 

11 o'clock. — Military Review on the Plains of 

Abraham. 

1.30. — Lunch at Spencerwood, after which : 
" Garden Party." Thence Their Royal 
Highnesses will proceed to the Frigate Ophir 
where an official dinner will be given. Dur- 
ing the evening will take place : A naval 
parade, a concert by one thousand singers 
and instrumentalists (on board of the steam- 

154 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

ers), illumination of all the Men-of-war and 
Steamers in the port, and fireworks from 
every one of them. 

SEPTEMBER i8th. 

Departure of Their Royal Highnesses by the 
C. P. R., on their special train, for the 
inland cities of the Dominion. 
The festive features of the programme were 
not carried out. This was out of respect to 
President McKinley's death. Beautiful senti- 
ment to pay to the memory of the head of 
another nation ! 

FIREWORKS AS SEEN FROM THE TERRACE, 

I have seen vast pyrotechnics, but never before 
have I seen a city so well adapted to such 
display as Quebec. How true: *' Like a city set 
upon a hill, its light cannot be hid !" I never 
attempt a description if I can find one who can 
do it for me better. I am fortunate again. This 
time in finding in my old friend Silas Gregory, a 
man who, although 78 years old, stiii wields a 
facile pen. Mr. Gregory was in Quebec in 1855 
when there was another demonstration of which 
he wrote. Of this present occasion he writes, 
comparing it with the other. 

" Again the loyal citizens of Quebec displayed 
their loyalty, hospitality and exquisite taste in 

155 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

decorating the Ancient Capital for royal guests 
— the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York. 
But what a wonderful change had taken place 
within 46 years. The gas light illuminations of 
1855; the war ships of wood, with sails and com- 
paratively light armament, the turpentine hand 
grenades for firework display, etc., had been 
supplanted by electric lights for illuminations; 
monster engines of destruction floated as lightly 
upon the water as the old wooden vessels, whose 
place they had taken, and for pyrotechnic display 
the old grenade was dimmed by a thousand 
candle power modern light that fairly changed 
night into day. The Atlantic cable was then a 
dream in the mind of a Field while now the 
messages flash back and forth as a shuttle in the 
loom of time. These and a thousand other 
vast changes made it possible for a grander 
reception for the future King and Queen of 
Great Britain. 

From the King's Bastion the Royal party wit- 
nessed an unparalleled scene. At a given signal 
huge bonfires blazed forth at various points on 
the Levis heights, and on those of the Isle of 
Orleans and Montmorency. The great ships of 
war lying in the harbor were brilliantly lighted 
with innumerable electric Hghts, the beautiful 
and unique Chateau Frontenac, was a blaze of 
brilliancy from ' Turret to foundation stone,' 

156 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

while public buildings, convents, churches and 
many private dwellings shone out upon the 
night, making the old city a veritable bit of fairy 
land of splendor, witnessed by over one hundred 
thousand pleased spectators — crowding Dufferin 
Terrace, the roofs of houses and every available 
spot from which to catch a glimpse of the grand 
display — a scene ever to be remembered and re- 
corded in the pages of the history of Canada." 

What to me was even more pleasing than the 
feast of the eye, was the 

Chorus of a thousand singers, 

who, under the leadership of Joseph Vezina and 
J. A. Paquet, sang the National Airs of England 
and her provinces. This vast choir — ^many of 
the singers were well-trained children — was 
seated on a raised platform on the Terrace, and 
assisted by two hundred and fifty musicians, 
filled the night with a volume of sweet music I 
had seldom heard before, and had never heard, 
amid such surroundings ! Oh, what a picture 
— weird — musical picture ! A thousand well- 
trained voices ringing out far above the river, up 
and down and across which flitted hither and 
thither, ships lighted from deck to topmast, with 
ever and anon and in all directions, fire flying 
from ship and shore and Terrace. The blending 

157 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

of sight and sound was most entrancing. Ah, 
the joy of that September night, — the scene will 
ever remain framed in memory. 

The review of the troops of Canada, and the 
marines of His Majesty's ships in the harbor, by 
the Duke on the Plains of Abraham, was another 
enjoyable event. In a review where the man- 
oeuvering is all good, it is hard to speak of what 
is best; but all agreed that the marching of the 
marines was something beyond good, it was mar- 
vellous. The whole line moved as one man, and 
that one man trained to the very highest of 
modern tactics. It was beautiful and inspiring. 



The Duke confers honors 

After the Review of the troops by His Royal 
Highness the Duke, honors were conferred and 
medals given. The first was conferred upon 
Colonel R. E. W. Turner, son of Hon Richard 
Turner, M.L.C. It was the Victoria Cross for 
Distinguished Service, in taking, in the face of 
great danger, during battle a number of guns, in 
the South African war. The Colonel was also 
presented a beautiful sword, given by the citi- 
zens of Quebec. After this presentation, the 

i5« 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Duke distributed medals of honor to a number of 
the soldiers who had fought in this war. 

Following are those given titles by His Royal 
Highness. The recipients are from the various 
Provinces of Canada : Sir Louis A. Jette, 
K.C.M.G.; Sir John Boyd, K.C.M.G.; Sir T. G. 
Shaughnessy, K.B.; Principal Peterson, C.M.G.; 
Principal Grant, CM.G.; Rev. Mr. Mathieu, 
Rector of Laval University, C.M.G. ; Mayor 
Howland, Toronto, C.M.G. ; Major Maude, 
C.M.G. ; Mr. Joseph Pope, C.M.G. 

Scan this list well, and see the men who were 
honored. It shows the trend of the times. Mind 
and not warlike prowess has earned for them 
their titles. One hundred years ago, aye, less, 
it might have been writ of one mentally worthy 
of title, that ; 

He hath no claim to honors! 

If he, by proxy, had but slain 

Ten thousand struggling fellows, 

Or by some deed of tongue, 

Sent hurtling down to death 

Vast herds of men. 

His back, long since, had felt. 

The weight of sword, so lightly touched 

That he must needs be told : 
" Rise, Sir Knight, from this time forth 

Thou art of nobler, and of better mold." 



159 



The Yankee in Quebec. 



I told you how the Colonel begged of me to 
take that trip to 

LAKE ST. JOHN, ROBERVAL AND 
SAGUENAY. 

I now regard him my true friend. A more 
beautiful trip could not be found in any land, 
than this, and, like the Colonel, I say to you, take 
it, and if you're not as pleased as I, why draw 
on me for the cost of it. You must take it, 
though, in my same " happy go lucky " way of 
seeing things, and not sit round and " knit " 
while everybody else is having a good time, then 
write me that you had no fun. 

Yes, I took his advice, which means that I 
took the trip. 

I left Quebec one afternoon over the Quebec 
and Lake St. John Railroad, passed through 
Charlesbourg, where, you remember, the 
Colonel lost me the afternoon he took me to see 
Chateau Bigot, on through " Indian Lorette" 
with its " pretty Indian Princesses," called out to 
" Poo Bah" Ross at the station as I passed, and 
on to St. Gabriel station, where, if you have the 
1 60 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

time you must stop off and spend a day wander- 
ing up and down 

The Jacques Cartier River 

named for the discoverer of Canada. If you are 
a salmon fisher you may spend a week of most 
delightful pleasure. If you are a lover of the 
beautiful in nature here you can feast your eyes 
on most charming scenery, as the waters of the 
river run through and over and around great 
rocks, as they go seething and foaming on to the 
lake below the bridge that crosses at a height 
of 60 feet. Far up this river is a wild wooded 
country, the home of the trout. 

At St. Catherine station, six miles further on, 
I got off the train and was driven a short dis- 
tance to the Lake View House, on 

Lake St. Joseph 

This is the lake where is held the annual regatta 
of several of the Quebec boat clubs, and is a 
beautiful sheet of water five to seven miles in 
length. The length is governed by the particu- 
lar one of whom you make the inquiry. But 
whether five or seven miles long, it is all the 
same to me, as I got 14 miles of enjoyment out 
of my stay with the Whites, who keep the Lake 
View House, a picture of which I took with my 
new Camera. It was my first effort, and if not 
161 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

good you must blame it on the camera, for I 
know I aimed it right at the house and squeezed 
the bulb until it snapped. This is a great 
family resort, not only for Quebeckers, but 




LAKE VIEW HOUSE. 
Had to " cut " it after a,\\— fault of the camera, I assure you. 

many from the United States have sought it 
out for its fishing, sailing and rowing. Among 
others I met here the two Scotts, Mr. Eben 
Greenough Scott, the well known Pennsylvania 
railroad lawyer and trout fisher, and Mr. J. .G. 
Scott, General Manager of the Quebec and Lake St. 
John railroad, who is also General Manager of the 
Great Northern Railway of Canada, one of 
the most able railroad men in all the Dominion. 
The steamer ''Arizona" being out of commission 
when I left, Ed. Govro, an all round good 
fellow, from Chaumont, New York State, rowed 
162 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

me over to the Lake St. Joseph station, two 
miles across the lake. Ed. said that the trout 
fishing in St. Joseph was most excellent, and 
Ed.'s a sportsman of the sort that knows. 

Autumn Leaves 

It was just after leaving the St. Joseph station 
that morning, when I began noticing the leaf 
coloring of the maple trees. No wonder 
Canada chose as her emblem the " Maple Leaf." 
A more beautiful emblem could not have been 
conceived! The frost had begun its work, and 
the thousand tints of red, up to crimson, 
covered all the mountains in every direction. I 
had never before seen such forest tinting as I 
saw that morning! I was one day looking at a 
painting in which autumn leaves were predomi- 
nent. I asked the artist why he colored his 
leaves so red. " Wait, wait," he said, " until 
you have seen our maples turn, when frost 
touches them. You will see that I have been 
modest in my coloring. I do not dare paint 
them up to nature. No one who has not seen 
our autumn leaves, would believe the gorgeous- 
ness of their reds, Wait until you see!" I 
saw them that morning as the train sped along, 
and then I fully realized what the artist had told 
me. His colors were very bright, and yet he 
had been modest as compared with those moun- 

163 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

tains of red, these gigantic paintings not made 
with hands. They were not modest, they were 
simply natural. Further north, as the land rose 
up to, and beyond, a thousand feet, the red turned 
to yellow, the maple to the birch tree. I love 
them both, for both are beautiful. 

St. Raymond 

is twelve miles further up the railroad. It is 
known as the Swiss village, from the fact that 
people have been in the habit of comparing 
everything wildly beautiful to Switzerland ; but 
the time is near when the scenes along this rail- 
road will not be compared with those of any 
land, but will be known for their own particular 
beauty. A few miles back from St. Raymond 
is the club house of one of the oldest, most 
popular and most select game and fish clubs in 
Lower Canada — the ' Tourilli,' of which Com- 
madore J. U. Gregory is and has been President 
since its birth. 

Rivere a Pierre 

is the junction of the Great Northern Railway 
of Canada, a road that is destined to play a 
great part in the new Quebec — a city of vast 
proportions, whose dawn I see. After leaving 
Riviere a Pierre the road runs into a great fish 
and game country. Many clubs have their 
164 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

houses in it and not for from the railroad. The 
Triton Club has its own pretty station, and can 
reach the club house through winding lakes a 
few miles away. President Roosevelt and Ex- 
President Cleveland are honorary members of 




THE TRITON CLUB HOUSE. 

the Triton, whose limits cover about 500 square 
miles of lakes, rivers and mountains. The 
Laurentides, and the Stadacona Clubs are also 
in this country, traversed by the Batiscan river, 
where in places the mountain cliffs reach down 

165 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

to the very water's edge. I tried to ''take" one of 
these scenes, but my photographer tells me that 
I failed — I feared as much as it was so very 
'' wild," and the train was going so fast at the 
time. 

Apropos of the Stadacona Club. It was the 
first one located in this section. Its membership 
is confined to the small number of fifteen. W. H. 
Swift and Preston Lea, of Wilmington, Dela- 
ware, are of the number. To the Stadacona 
belongs another " Yankee in Quebec," Captain 
Edson Fitch, who, however, may have lost that 
title from a residence of thirty-three years. The 
Captain was originally from Glens Falls, New 
York, from which place he enlisted in the War 
of the Rebellion, and after several years of army 
life, he came to Quebec, and has been most suc- 
cessful in mills and timber. The Captain is also 
a member of the Orleans and of the Lake Au 
Lard game and fishing clubs, besides having a 
private hunting and fishing limit, with a beautiful 
camp, on Lac Long, a few miles distant from 
Stadacona,— See this picture of his camp. I 
could not but note the strange lake formation of 
this locality. You see Lac Long in the fore- 
ground, look to the right and far above is a rock 
formation— almost like the Palisaides of the 
Hudson, — at the foot of which, ten minutes walk 
up hill all the way, is another lake, thus, though 

See Frontispiece. 
1 66 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

the two are quite near together, yet there is a 
difference in leyels of possibly lOO feet. 

Ah, here we are, 113 miles from Quebec, 

LAKE EDWARD. 

No wonder C, B. Wells, of Honolulu, after 
travelling 6,000 miles to see and fish in this 
lake, said he had been well repaid for coming. 
"Six thousand miles for a six-pound trout!" 
said he, ''Ah me, it's worth it!" 

I didn't intend to step off, but when R. Row- 
ley, owner of the Laurentide House, got hold of 
my grip and said he knew different, I concluded 
that he was right, and now in my calmer 
moments I fairly " bubble over " with joy in 
thinking how very right he was, for not to have 
stopped at Lake Edward would have been one 
of the mistakes of my life. I hardly know how 
to begin telling you of the pleasure of those 
days from Thursday until Monday. Now just 
follow me, and if you can discern the full 
meaning of joy in words you will know how 
much of real pleasure I had, What a small 
world is this, anyhow! The first man I met at 
the hotel was R. R. McCormick, of Florida, who 
spends his summers at Lake Edward. In a 
conversation he asked my native home. 
'' Springfield, Ohio," said I. " How odd," said 

167 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

he, ''that was once my home too." He knew 
my people, and we were soon old friends. The 
world is small indeed. 

STRANGE THINGS OCCUR 

and oft follow in quick succession. I ate 
dinner at the hotel that Thursday with a Mr. L. 
Humbert, of Belgium, who had stopped off with 
his manager, F. N. Ritchie, on their way to 
Lake Kiskisink — the next station — and on 
Monday he was again at the hotel wounded. It 
was an accident — he had forgotten the hunter's 
rule — •" Never carry a loaded gun on your 
shoulder with muzzle pointing forward." He 
slipped, the gun was discharged and the ball 
went through his knee. It was far away — thirty 
or more miles away — and Lake Edward the 
nearest station. Mr. Ritchie, who was with him, 
did all that mortal man could do. Thirty miles 
through a trackless forest with six lakes to 
cross. He set men to cutting portages, and 
others to carry the wounded man in a boat on 
their shoulders, while he came with still others 
to Lake Edward, where he telegraphed for a 
surgeon and a special train — money was no 
object as the dying man was a millionnaire; but 
no money could save him. The portage cutters 
and carriers after working — (as only these 
wiry Canadian guides can work) — for nearly 
i68 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

twenty-four hours, reached the station in an 
exhausted state, for they had gone the whole 
time with almost nothing to eat. A more thrill- 
ing experience of the woods I've never come in 
contact with. Robert and George Rowley gave 
their lake steamer, their guides and did all in 
their power to aid in every way, but help came 
too late, as he died before the train reached 
Riviere a Pierre, on its way to Quebec. 

BOB SENDS RUBE MOOSE HUNTING. 

" I will give you two of my best guides," said 
Bob Rowley, on Friday morning, and if he has 
two better than Philip, the Frenchman, and 
George, the Indian, they are indeed good. It 
was a new experience to me, this sitting on the 
bottom of a canoe with two guides at either end 
with their single paddles, propelling the canoe 
through the water at a horse trot swiftness. I 
wanted to sit on that cross-piece. I thought it 
would be more comfortable. Philip said I 
might do so if I was a good swimmer, but when 
I looked over to the shore, a half mile away, I 
concluded that the bottom of the canoe was far 
preferable to the bottom of the lake, so I sat 
still. 

Say, do you know anything about guides? If 
they find you can't shoot, well, you hold a 
small place in their estimation and for your own 
169 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

comfort you had better practice shooting several 
days before going out to hunt moose and 
caribou. 

RUBE RESORTS TO STRATAGEM 

Now I didn't have any kind friend to tell me 
this like you have, in time to save my reputation. 
No, here I sat on the bottom of that canoe 
feeling at peace with all the world, and hoping 
that no animal larger than a chipmunk would 
show its head, when these guides sighted one of 
Rowley's many camps, and Philip said "There's 
where you try the rifle!" 

"What's that for?" I asked. "The gun is 
all right, see, there isn't a thing the matter with 
the gun; why, it's new. I don't see what you 
want to try it for." Say — wasn't I getting 
scared! If those guides only knew that I hadn't 
even shot off a gun for many years and then 
some more years, they might let me sit on that 
cross-piece and take my chance. No I'll not 
try the gun — that is, I thought I'd not try the 
gun, but those guides paddled over to that 
camp, got out of the canoe and put a half dozen 
cartridges into the magazine, then looking 
around for something to shoot at, when Philip's 
eye caught sight of a rock about two hundred 
yards out in the lake, and said, handing me the 
gun, " There, shoot at that rock and we can tell 
170 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

how the gun works." The gun I knew was 
all right. I wasn't worrying about the gun, but 
about that rock. I knew if I didn't hit that 
rock I'd hit the water, sure, and if I hit the 
water too often we wouldn't go hunting for 
moose and caribou ; and I did want to hunt 
moose and caribou, merely to see what sort of 
birds or beasts they were. '^ Shoot and we'll 
watch the rock." 

"Yes, boys, keep your eye on that rock and 
watch me hit it." 

Bang — " Good shot," said Phil — " I saw the 
shot strike." Bang — " Hit it again !" Bang- 
"A third time, why, man you're a great shot !" 
And I emptied the magazine without a single 
miss — according to Philip's count. " Why, 
that's wonderful. It was never done before — 
now let the moose and the caribou show their 
heads !" and into the canoe we got, I sitting on 
the bottom. Philip talked in French to the 
Indian, and the Indian looked at me most 
approvingly as he paddled away, singing an In- 
dian hunting song. So Philip told me 
afterward. 

Say, good friends, if ever you go to Lake 
Edward don't invest in that island which stands 
a half mile away and in range with my rock 
just because you find a lot of lead in it. No, 
don't do it, I claim a prior right to that lead 

171 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

— I had it first. I was thus saved by an old 
trick I had read of long years ago. 

This shooting ground is not far from the 
Press Club house, which we pass on the way 
down Lake Edward — ^Ah the fish stories this 
old house might tell ! See the picture I had 
Kennedy take at this point. See the shadow 
effect in the lake and read further on where I 
show you a '' pencil " drawing of one where a 
whole lake (Boquet) and not a part is taken, 
showing this shadow effect encircling it. 

The Press club has a history of its own. It 
was originally The Fin and Feather Club, made 
famous by Farnham, in his letters to the Harper's 
Magazine. Kit Clarke was then in his palmy 
days. Kit is famous for his " Where the Trout 
Hide." 

President Chester A. Arthur 

was a member of The Fin and Feather. Adiron- 
dacks Murray had a private camp not far awav 
in the bay. 

A Portage 

is the path between two lakes. It is often so 
crossed with fallen trees that you may step from 
one to another, or you may in places stoop 
under a log, and yet these guides will carry, one 
the canoe and the other the provision, tents, 
tent stove, and bedding, and you must be a good 
172 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

walker to keep up with them, and when you 
reach the next lake, just try to pick up one of 
their loads and you will then get a faint concep- 
tion of the strength of one of these men, or 
again, you may come to a place where the water 
is shallow and a guide may have to carry you 
out. Get on his back and you will feel that it's 
not a man, but a horse, that you are riding. I 
will here explain why / rode. You may or 
lay not know that French measures are not 
always the same as ours. Our acre is 43,560 
square feet, the French arpent — acre — is but 
36,000. Some of the other measures are also 
different, but I never knew that there was so 
great a difference in the feet until I tried to get 
on a large pair of Rowley's hunting boots — ■ 
that's why I rode, I didn't want to get my thin 
shoes wet. 

Lake Bouquet 

We reached a camp on Lake Bouquet at noon, 
where we stopped for dinner and then pushed 
on over portage and lake through Lakes 
Eugene, Algonquin, St. Stanislas, to Ecarte, on 
the further bank of which we camped for the 
night. 

A Shadow Picture 

All day long had we floated on through 
beauty of which I had never dreamed. To look 

173 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

upon those mountain-bordered lakes, with th 
foliage of the forest changed by the early frost 
into a thousand shades of yellow, with the greei 
of the spruce and the balsam shooting up lik 
giant ferns in a vast bouquet, was a picture th 
like of which I had never looked upon. O] 
such a picture ! Would that I might feebl; 
paint it for you ! Watch while I draw th 
outHne, as that is all my power of pencil can dc 
The lake is still, not the slightest breath of ai 
moves its surface. It is like a mirror. Yoi 
ask ,the guides to stop while you look upon th 
scene around you. The mountains rise an* 
hold the lake as in a cup. No axe has eve 
touched a tree of the border, and nowhere in al 
the circle can you see a spot uncovered. / 
stillness of which you had never before had ; 
conception is around and about everywhere 
Is that a pretty picture ? Ah me — it is crude- 
look — look now into the miles of shadow that circl 
the lake border, and you see in this vast circl 
a painting so smooth and perfect with all th 
colors of the other so softened that you fee 
some giant artist had run his finishing brusl 
over the whole, intensifying the beauty, an( 
blotting out the crude. 

I didn't want to hunt — I didn't want to fish- 
I only wanted to look, for never in my lif 



174 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

before, had I seen in nature so much that was 
pleasing. 

Camped on Lake Ecarte 

The tents were put up and supper was made 
ready, and for once in a long while I was 
hungry. You who know not what it is to enjoy 
being hungry, run off to some Canadian lake 
country, portage and float along a whole day 
as I had done and good crisp bacon will taste 
far sweeter than the tempting relishes of a 
Waldorf chef. The night was a perfect one. 
The moon was full and shone upon the lake. 
As we sat and talked and watched the moon 
and the stars, I remembered having heard that 
the guide always knows the points of the com- 
pass. '' Philip," I asked, " where is north?" 
" There !" and he pointed far west of that 
course. '' You are wrong, that is north." Then 
I showed him how, by the '' Dipper," he could 
always find the North Star. He was more 
willing to learn than was 

The old Connecticut farmer 

I once tried to teach direction. '' Where is 
north?" I asked him. 

'•' Thar!" and he pointed even farther west than 
Philip had done. 

J 77 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

^' No, you are wrong, that is north. See, that 
is the North Star," said I pointing. 

'*' Cain't help it, stranger, cain't help it; that 
has been narth for nigh onto sixty yere, an' I 
ain't er gwien ter change her now, stairs or no 
stairs!" 

The Indian cut spruce twigs and spread iheni 
over the tent " floor " and placed my blankets 
down. "Ah" thought I '" what a soft bed I will 
have to-night" ; but instead I could have been 
lifted up next morning without bending. / was 
soft, not the bed, and every '' knob " on the 
ground had found a particular soft spot. Re- 
minded me of the night 

Bill Bare and I watched our peach orchard 

with a shot gun — not to hurt but to scare. We 
slept on the ground. The peaches had been 
safer had we slept at home, as the first peach 
poachers who got into the orchard were ^ome 
wheat threshers starting early to do old man 
Rocknell's threshing. They fooled around so 
long among the green peach trees that Bill and 
I felt sorry for them and went and took them 
to the '' good tree." Poor Bill is dead now. He 
stole a horse, was sent to the penitentiary, 
served his time, came back home, lived it down, 
and died one of the most respected in tlie 
county. Others of us were sent away to col- 
178 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

lege, became lawyers, doctors, book writers, etc., 
and 'tis hard to tell where we will end. Mayhap 
we'll go home, too, and live it down, who 
knows ! 

Mrs. Rogers' rushes 

How little in after life it takes to remind us of 
'' when we were boys," Lakes Eugene and 
Algonquin are connected by a thread of a 
stream. While passing through this stream I 
could reach out from the canoe and pull from 
the water a peculiar rough rush. I had not 
seen it before since I was a little boy, when old 
Mrs. Rogers, who lived up in the " Swamp," 
used to come down early in the morning with 
"her Ben" with ten cents worth of these rushes, 
and after getting the money would proceed to 
spend the day. I used to think she was a fine 
old lady, because she always said I'd be a great 
man, as I was born on the same day with " her 
Ben." The good things we hear in childhood 
seldom materialize! Ben always said he "didn't 
have no chanct." Ben was a thorough investi- 
gator even though he'd never go to school. He 
always wanted to find out what was '' there." 
One day while we were building the " new 
house," Ben and his " Ma" came down with 
their dime of rushes and spent the day. After 
he had examined everything else Ben thought 
179 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

he'd like to find out what was in the cellar of 
the new house. So he opened the door and 
went down. He went down quicker than if he 
had only waited until the cellar stairs had been 
put in. He told me in after years that he had 
never been more surprised in his life than he 
was the day he wanted to see what we had in 
the new cellar. 

It was an early breakfast we took next morn- 
ing, as Philip said we'd soon be in 

THE GREAT MOOSE COUNTRY 

Philip was in a hurry. I wasn't — / hadn't 
anything against the moose, poor beast or bird! 
Why should I want to hurt the animal ? No, 
I was in no hurry; but as I still sat on the 
bottom of the canoe, I had to go as fast as 
Philip and George chose to paddle. We soon 
came to the short portage across which we pass- 
ed, and then a short row across a little lake too 
small for a name, and here we stopped and left 
the boat. ''My eyes!" said Philip, *' See these 
tracks !" and sure enough the bank showed 
where a herd, or flock or bevy — or whatever 
you may apply to moose and caribou — had 
come down to drink. Tracks enough for a 
herd of cattle. " Moose plenty !" said the 
Indian, as we started on the trail, he leading. 
It was the first time I had ever hunted after an 
i8o 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Indian; but George was safe, unless I aimed at 
something else. The tracks led us across or 
along a two mile portage, to a lake whose name 
translated meant " Toad," There PhiUp said 
we'd stop for the day and watch for moose and 
caribou. Far in the afternoon I got very tired 
being still — I wanted to go into the woods and 
hunt, like I would for squirrels; but Philip said, 
'' No, we must wait here." 

Poetry saves the life of a Moose, 

I got more tired. When I get very tired wait- 
ing for moose and caribou I always go off and 
sit on a log and write poetry. That's what I 
did on Toad Lake or Lake Toad, I forget which, 
Philip called it. Yes, I was getting on well, 
had gotten four lines nearly finished and would 
have had them quite so, but for the " moun- 
tains" and the " fountains," which were too long, 
so I had to cut off one end of each and let it 
run like this. 

They sing of the lakes in the land of the 
Swiss, 
Where the waters are kissing the feet of the 
mounts. 
But give me the lakes of the land of the maple, 
Where the waters flow free from a thousand 
pure founts. 
'Tis the land — 

i8i 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

" Come quick!" yelled Philip. 

" Moose, moose !" called the Indian. It took 
me as long as possible to get there, when I 
boldly grasped the gun and asked, " Where? 
Where? Show me the moose !" 

'' Too late, he's gone. See that brush over 
there? he ran back into the woods at that point 
— ah, if you'd, only been here, you, who shoot so 
well, could have gotten him." 

'' Yes, yes, Philip, it's too bad — we'd had 
moose wing for supper sure." Of course I'd 
have killed him on the spot, as the " spot " was 
only three hundred yards away. Yes, indeed. 
Nothing but the poetry ever saved that moose ! 
Who says poetry is not useful ? These few 
lines saved the life of an innocent animal, (as 
Philip thought) — or my reputation as a marks- 
man — (as I knew) and loss of it — as a poet. 
What matter, it doesn't count in the woods! I 
was bound to finish that poetry, moose or no 
moose, so I sat down with the gun and Philip, 
and went hunting for the ends of the lost 
" mountains " and " fountains," and found 
them, but somehow got the metre broken long 
toward the end, and no plumber within forty 
miles, so I had to let it go at that. Go back 
and pick, up the lines where I left them, if you 
care to drive through with me. 

where the Autumn encrimsons all nature, 

182 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

A thousand bright hues bedecking its mountains, 

Where the trout and the bass sport all the 
day long, 
As they bask in the sun at the lake's cooling 
fountains. 

'Tis the land where the sportsman a paradise 
finds, 
Where the moose and the caribou lazily dwell, 

But to find them the huntsman must rare 
patience possess. 

And to get them must have — ah, the aim of a 
Tell. 

I find in my note book that I called this 
'' poetry on a log," but there's no mention of a 
" log " in a single line. I must have meant — 
really I forget what I did mean — one gets so 
much in one's note book while hunting for 
moose and caribou! 

The Indian, whom we had missed for an hour 
or two, came in with a glowing report of the 
tracks he had found, on the other side of the 
lake. We all went over and looked at the 
tracks. The Indian was right. There were 
tracks of three big moose, very recent tracks, 
but I saw no moose, fortunately. We came 
back in the evening to our camp on Lake 
Ecarte. I was like Senator Proctor, " Oh, so 
happy," but for different reasons — he because 
he had gotten a moose, and I, because I hadn't. 

183 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

I didn't want any moose. It would have been 
an extra load for those faithful guides. They 
told me that moose steak was good, but I pre- 
ferred bacon, as I didn't have to kill it, and we 
had it already. 

I don't like to kill. I have read Seton 
Thompson's '' Animals I've met," and I have a 
soft place in my heart for the poor things. He 
wrote on ''Animals I've met," I could write on 

Animals I've not met 

and could tell you almost as much about them 
as he did. For instance take the Caribou. 

The Car-i-bou is an animal of the her-biv-er- 
ous family. It has four legs, and has two horns 
most of the year. It is found in the woods of 
Can-a-da, — providing you can hunt better than 
I. It is a pre-ca-rious animal. The Car-i-bou 
is also of the will-o'-the-wisp species. It is a 
bovine that has either been there the day before 
or the day after you were, and if you want to 
see it real bad go to some well regulated zoo- 
logical garden of a pleasant Saturday afternoon 
when the public is admitted free, or drop into 
the Queen's Hotel, in Montreal, when game's in 
season. 

I trust that my well planned excuses for lack 
of success will be accepted, for I assure you they 
are well meant — but real quietly — it was a bit 
184 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

embarrassing to go back to the hotel with 
nothing, when nearly every hunter before me 
had come in with two caribou or moose, or like 
that Stewart from England who got all the law 
would allow him of both; and, too, my New 
Jersey neighbor, Ernst G. Asmus, who came in 
with two caribou the very day I reached Lake 
Edward. 

Rube catches an Indian, 

I did a bit of fly fishing on our way back. I 
watched Philip " cast the fly," and pull in the 
" wily trout." How easy it looked — almost 
like " cracking" a whip. I tried it, but not for 
long. The only thing I caught was the Indian's 
ear. He didn't say a single word that I could 
understand, but he did do more talking in a 
few minutes than I had heard him on the whole 
trip. I had often heard of the '' silent Indian," 
but the people who had written about him 
hadn't my Indian in mind when they wrote. 

RUBE HEARS OF THE LADY OF THE TERRACE. 

When we had gotten back to the beautiful 
Lake Bouquet and while passing along near to 
the further portage — Philip stopped and said: 
'' There's where I ducked the Kid." • 

" Who's the Kid ?" I asked. 

185 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

''What, didn't Bob tell you about him? I 
thought everybody knew of the Kid. Why, he 
was here nearly a month — only went away last 
week. He was with an old gentleman and his 
daughter. The old man liked him but the 
lady hated him, and would give us extra '' tips " 
if we could keep him away from her. We tried 
every way we could think of, but he zvould 
follow. One day a party came to this lake from 
the hotel. The lady was of the number. They 
had gotten away from the Kid, but he followed. 
During the afternoon he was with me in my 
canoe. I saw a look in the lady's face that 
said, " Philip, a big tip " — but the Kid shared 
it with me — I asked him to stand up, and as he 
did so, I gave the canoe an ' accidental,' and he 
went over. He could swim but little, and might 
have drowned had I not called to him to stand 
up and wade out, which he did, as the water was 
only up to his chin. The tip I got for this was 
the largest she ever gave me, and I do think it 
would have been double had the Kid staid 
under." 

I grew interested — " What was the name of 
the fellow you call the Kid ?" ''The father 
called him Clarence, but the lady called him 
' It.' " 

Ah me, here were my people of the Terrace 
again, all but John — where was John ? 

i86 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

I asked Rowley where this family and " It" 
had gone, but he said he didn't know. How 
often had I thought of them since that day I 
first saw them on the Terrace! 'Tis ever thus in 
hfe, meet and lose — meet and lose. 

Fish Truths. 

We have heard so long of '' Fish Stories " 
that to run across a " Fish Truth " is refreshing, 
for its very uniqueness. *' What is a Fish 
Truth ?" I pardon your asking. I didn't know 
myself until R. Rowley told me. It's this, a 
man may tell of catching a trout as large as a 
whale — no limit to the size he may tell about, 
but no fisherman dare draw the size of his fish 
and mark on the drawing the weight of it as 
other than absolutely correct to the ounce. 
Whenever you see on a camp wall or hotel wall 
a paper or birch bark fish, with a weight marked 
on it, you can wager that it is no " fish story." 
All about Rowley's hotel office at Lake Edward 
you may see many of these '' Truths " — my 
adopted State leads off with that well known 
trout fisher, W. Shaw, of New Jersey, with a 
6 pound trout ; E. F. Kuhen, New York, 5% ; 
J. C. Rowley, Boston, ^Vz ; C. J. Ranney, Ohio, 
5^^ ; Wm. Barnette, N.Y., 5. These are but a 
few. This section of country is becoming more 
famous each year. One sportsman tells another, 

187 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

and when once known nothing can induce the 
pleased fisherman to go elsewhere. Somehow 
Bob Rowley knows just how to please the sports- 
man, and with his 400 miles of hunting and 
fishing grounds, with 40 lakes, has a limit that is 
almost limitless. How I wished for time, I 
could have stayed at Lake Edward, and kept on 
staying, the place is so interesting. 

Rube leaves the lake— as he can't take it with him, 

After leaving this charming resort, I went on 
up or down, or, rather, both, for north of Lake 
Edward thirteen miles the limit of the " up " is 
reached at a height of 1,500 feet, then its 
" down " to Lake St. John. 

All the way along the railroad there is a chain 
of lakes. I never saw a country so full of them, 
and all are beautifully clear and full of fish. It 
is the coming Paradise of the trout fisher. I 
might say is, for fishing clubs line the whole 
distance. At 

Lake Kiskisink, 

the Metabetchouan Fish and Game Club have 
their Club House. It is made up of many 
wealthy New Englanders. When one sees the 
names of so many well known Americans one 
can hardly feel that one is so far from home. 
B. W. Kellogg, Waterbury, Conn.; Amos R. 
188 




OUIATCHOUAN FALLS NEAR ROBERVAL 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Little, Director Pennsylvania Railroad ; E. S. 
Brewer, and D. N. Coats, Springfield, Mass., and 
many others from the States are prominent in 
club life in this country. 

To me the most beautiful of all these chain 
of lakes on the '' down " section of the road is 

Lake Bouquette, 

i6o miles from Quebec. It is long and wind- 
ing, and beautifully clear. It is to the station of 
the same name, at which the Nonantum Club, of 
New Haven, Conn., come and go to reach their 
club house back in the interior. From this lake 
flows the Ouiatchouan river, and near Lake St. 
John, into which the river empties, are seen the 
falls of he same name. They pour over a 
height of 236 feet, and while the fall is not sheer 
down, it is far more beautiful from the many 
breaks, which cut the water into foaming spray. 
The volume of water too is great. It is utilized 
by a large pulp mill, which industry is becoming 
a vast one, as this is the great spruce wood 
country. 

ROBERVAL. 

Is the northern terminus of the railroad. I 
was surprised to find here a little city, with many 
of the modern conveniences of a city ; electric 
lights, waterworks, etc. I am fast losing the im- 
191 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

pression that this great northern country is '' up 
where the seals play." Now, many of you will 
be surprised when I ask you to get down that 
old school atlas and look it over. There, now, 
I knew you wouldn't have believed that the 
whole of England was further north than Lake 
St. John ! Look now at St. Petersburg, 
Russia. See? its on latitude 60 — keep on, turn 
back to North America again and — " No, you 
would not have believed that 60 runs nearly 
through the centre of Hudson's Bay?" I knew 
you wouldn't. I didn't myself. Why, all up 
through this lake country you see farming 
going on as you will in many of the old settled 
States. 

When once a railroad is built on beyond 
Roberval, through to James Bay, there will be de- 
veloped a country that is full to overflowing with 
vast wealth in mineral and timber, while the 
land is well adapted to raising fruits, vegetables, 
and many of the small grains, and for pasturage, 
it will in the near future become a great sheep 
grazing section. 

''Cold ?" Now you think just as I did. Why, on 
Oct. 3rd, in 1897, Major O'Sullivan bathed in 
James Bay, and said it was no colder than he 
had known it in midsummer in the Saguenay 
river. This can be relied upon, for I know the 
Major. If once a railroad reaches this bay 

192 



The Yankee in Qiiebee. 

there are tributary to it 4,000 miles of the coast 
Hne of Hudson's Bay, from which could be 
drawn freights enough for a double track road 
to Quebec. 

There is at Roberval a good hotel, from 
which steamers run across the lake to the Grand 
Discharge — where the waters of this vast inland 
sea become the Saguenay river, of which more 
later on. 

One might well spend a summer here with 
Roberval as the centre. In all directions there 
are points to visit well worthy the most blase 
traveller. It would be something new, and 
that is what the old traveller is ever looking for. 
He has seen Europe until he knows every point 
of interest on the Continent, and has grown 
tired of looking at it. Many of you have never 
heard of Lake St. John. You may know every 
lake in Switzerland; but here is one you have 
never heard of and yet it is 500 square miles in 
extent, with great rivers running into it from 
north, west and south, whose coml^ned length 
would extend more than one-third the distance 
across the Continent. 

Lake St. John is the home of the Ouananiche 
fish, which E. T. D. Chambers has made famous 
in his great work, " The Ouinaniche," published 
by Harpers— a book that every angler should 
have in his library. There is possibly no other 

193 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

fish that will equal it as a fighter. The sport is 
intensely exciting. 



Montagnais Indians. 

Near Roberval are the remnants of the Moun- 
taineers, a tribe known as the Montagnais 
Indians. They hunt during the winter and rest 
during the summer, or act as guides. My, 
Indian, George, at Lake Edward, is of this tribe. 
They can sing fairly well — If you should be wise 
and stop of¥ on your way to Roberval, at Lake 
Edward, ask Rowley to let you have Philip and 
George as guides, and when you get out on one 
of those grand lakes ask George to sing '' God 
Save the King," in Montagnais language, You 
will enjoy it — George has a good day voice, but 
oh the one he uses at night! Take my advice 
again, and see that his tent is not in '^ Snoring" 
distance, that is if you are in need of sleep your- 
self. I had always heard, '' how lightly sleeps 
the Indian." It may be poetically true, but 
George is anything but poetical when it comes 
to night work, why, I couldn't wake him with 
a gun. I awoke the echoes and scared off any 
moose that might have been within seven miles, 
but George slept peacefully on — yes — get 
George to sing — by day. 



194 



m 



RUBE "TAEIES " A BRIDE AND ALMOST " TAKES " A GROOM, 
AT ROBERVAL 



The Yankee in Quebec, 
RUBE DOES SOME PHOTOGRAPHING. 

At Roberval I spent one day taking photo- 
graphs of the hotels, lake — falls, street scenes, 
odd vehicles, stores, churches, people, in fact I 
must have taken them all. J. A. Roy, the car- 
penter, jeweller, and phoitographer, was very 
kind to me. Every time my camera had been 
all " shot " away, he would " load" it up for me 
in his "dark room." Roy and I got real well 
acquainted. I wasn't going to stay long in 
town so I called often. He didn't give me much 
encouragement though about results, as he said 
photographs taken in the pouring rain weren't 
always the best; but I held the umbrella over 
the camera so that it wouldn't get wet and kept 
on " shooting," I always try to be obliging and 
when Otis and some others of the storekeepers 
would come out and ask me if I would please 
'' take " their stores, I'd take it, and go on to 
some other object. Why, really I do think I 
could have had all Roberval — if my *' plates " 
had held out. But to think that after all my 
work, Beaudry, the " developer," says there was 
only one good picture out of the whole lot. I'm 
bound, though, not to lose that one, so there it 
is. '' What is it ?" now really you must excuse 
me. Oh, yes, I have it now — I see by the 
marked number that it is the bride and groom 

197 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

from Quebec, standing on the porch of a little 
hotel — just see the expression of contentment 
on their faces ! They don't even know it's rain- 
ing. 

C. S. COOK SHOOTS THE RAPIDS. 

I met that world traveller, and good fellow- 
to-know — Cook — C. S. Cook, of Boston. He 
wanted me to " shoot " the rapids with him 
from the Grand Discharge, Lake St. John, to 
Chicoutimi, but I told him my success in 
" shooting" at Lake Edward, and that I was 
afraid a " miss " in the rapids shooting would be 
more serious than the other sort, so I let him go 
it alone, and met him on the boat next day at 
Chicoutimi. (Where the Saguemay branch of 
the Quebec and Lake St. John railroad ends, 
and the river trip begins). He had much of the 
" thrilHng " to tell about. Sixty miles in a 
canoe, where in places you go faster than a 
horse can run! I do love to go fast, but I don't 
want much water of the seething and foaming 
kind around, when I am going fast. I was afraid 
that I'd miss connections at Chicoutimi, for the 
trip 



and to have missed that, with all the surpassing, in- 
describable beauty of the weird, picturesque river, 

19S 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

would have been to miss in every way the most 
deHghtful one I have ever had — and I've been 
going, going, aU these years, since I left the old 
farm in Ohio. — Is the Hudson river beautiful ? 
It's a '' crick " in comparison ! Are its Pali- 
sades grand in your eyes ? They are little 
nursery blocks set up on one side of 
the '' crick !" I won't attempt to tell you of 
the Saguenay. My power of description 
reaches only up to the " grand " — ^the Saguenay 
goes so far beyond, that I can only say : " See 
it for yourself." Go, if you have to borrow the 
money. Your creditor will forgive you the 
debt when he learns to what use you put it — 
especially so if he has seen the Saguenay himself. 
W. H. H. Murray says of it : 

" It is a monstrous cleft opened by earth- 
quake violence for sixty miles, through a land- 
scape of mountains formed of primeval rock. 

'■ In old times a shock which shook the world 
burst the Laurentian range asunder at its St. 
lawrence line, where Tadousac now is, and 
opened up a chasm two miles across, two thou- 
sand feet in depth, and sixty miles in length 
straight westward. Thus the Saguenay was 
born." 

The beauty of one's surroundings is ever 
enhanced by good company. I have never had 
the pleasure of better than the genial spirits who 

20 1 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

made the hours fly along as we passed down 
the river. 

And these were those ''Genial Spirits": Mr. 
Edward C. Thurnau, of Chicago, and his accom- 
plished wife, Mrs. Annie Louise Thurnau, cousin 
of Secretary of State John Hay. The Boston 
contingent were : C. S. Cook, Dr. J. S. Phelps, 
Dr. D. D. Brough and that all round newspaper 
man, W. C. Grout, of the Boston " Herald," 
and Henry T. Oesau, of Bridgeport, Conn. 
There were also on board that prince of good 
fellows, E. B. Harris, of the Q. and Lake St. 
John railroad; in charge of the International 
Ticket Agents' Association, to whom he was 
showing the beauties of Canada. There were 
fifty in his party, and if I might judge. The 
International Ticket Agents' Association will 
carry back an impression of the aforesaid beau- 
ties, that will send many a searcher after real 
pleasure in travel, to the land of the Maple Leaf. 

What, though, was my surprise and pleasure, 
in seeing on board, " The Lady of the Terrace." 
Her face shone as though no rain had ever fallen 
^'into her life," and that instead it had been one 
of all joy. The father, too, was there, and 
John and '' It," but " It " was alone during the 
whole way, for even the father took no notice of 
him, all his attentions were paid to John, How 
I wished to know their history! From the first 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

day I had seen them on the Terrace, their Hves 
had been to me one of rare interest — but I had 
no means of knowing — will I ever know? Who 
can tell !" 

It was a rainy day, what matter — ^the carriages 
at the various landings were covered, and we 
" saw the town," — Captain George Riverim 
always giving us ample warnings with the boat 
whistle. (Captain Riverim is a favorite with the 
ladies. I can give no higher compliment.) 

At Tadousac the Saguenay enters the St. Law- 
rence. Here we drove in the pouring rain to 
the government salmon hatchery, went into the 
little old Indian church built in 1750, on the site 
of which once stood the bark covered hut used 
in 1639 as a place of worship — making it one of 
the earliest churches if not the first on the St. 
Lawrence. We visited the Indian boot and 
moccasin makers, and in fact found in our short 
stay about every place of interest in the town. 
My — the things you can see if you have a fast 
horse ! — and most Canadian horses are fast — if 
the " tip " be sizable. 

We pass to the south side of the river before 
reaching Tadousac, two great mountains of rock. 

We had all seen pictures of and read about 

TRINITY AND ETERNITY, 

but for myself I had never conceived what these 
203 



The Yankee in Quebec 

capes, as they are called, were, and I don't 
know that I can tell you, so that you can under- 
stand what these awful (that's the word) rocks 
are. Some day when you are in New York 
City, going down past those " Sky Scrapers " on 
Broadway, stop in front of one of them, the one 
there near the Post-Office, — call it 300 feet high 
— does it look big to you ? Well, just imagine 
you saw a building extending from Bowling 
Green right up town nearly a mile, then imagine 
some more, this time that you had piled six of 
those 300 feet high buildings one on top of the 
other and you have " Trinity," and the next one 
you come to on the way down a mile away 
across a sort of little bay, on the same side of 
the river is '' Eternity " " Trinity is so called 
from the three distinct gigantic rock steps that 
form one side of it. 

There's another illustration that much im- 
presses one. As you pass this all but perpen- 
dicular wall the boat moves in, as you think 
almost against the rocky side. The Captain, 
who is a jolly soul, has in readiness a bucket full 
of stones. ''Now see who can hit the wall!" 
"Hit it!" why of course, and you take a pebble 
from the bucket and merely flip it out like you 
would shoot a marble. As the stone drops just 
outside the boat you toss one, then you jerk 
one, then you throw it a little, and perhaps 

204 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

finally nearly throw your shoulder out of joint, 
as I did, and then quit trying to hit what 
doesn't seem across the street distance. Dr. 
Brough was the only one who touched it, but 
the Doctor hasn't been long from the Princeton 
" team," Again, if the Saguenay were empty 
these piles would be more than twice as high, 
for the water is two thousand feet deep. Oh, I 
tell you this Saguenay goes clear beyond a 
description that will convey to the mind of one 
who has not seen it, for there is nothing in the 
world with which to compare it. You have to 
see it to appreciate it — words of the writer are of 
little help. 

At Riviere de Loup a number of people came 
on board who had been spending the summer 
at St. Lawrence Hall, 

CACOUNA, 

five miles down the River, called on ac- 
count of its beautiful situation and fashion, 
the Newport of the St. Lawrence, one 
of the most charming resorts of Canada. There 
is found everything that goes to make up an 
ideal summer's pleasure, boating, fishing, tennis, 
golf — all of them. It is becoming the great 
resort for Americans, who are each year learning 
more of this wonderful country. 
■^^i\t Murray Bay, another resort of fashion, 
205 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

more people came on board. The season was 
over and they were returning home. Among 
the number was one of our own great men, 
Justice of the Supreme Court Judge Harlan, and 
his family. The Judge spends his summers at 
Murray Bay, where he is shortly to build a mag- 
nificent cottage. 

Miss Lee, daughter of that noble old 
general, Robert E. Lee, also came on board. 
Mrs. Thurnau and she soon found that they had 




-^W, 



ACOUM^' 



mutual friends and our little party was added to. 
Miss Lee is possibly better known by Europe's 
nobility than any other American. She is a 
clever woman, and well fitted to carry America's 
credit into any land. 

We reached Quebec next morning — and so 

ends a trip I shall never cease enjoying as long 

as memory is vouchsafed me. I shall go again 

and again, and am sure I will ever find new 

206 



The Yankee in Quehec. 

pleasures — as on this outing, I saw but the out- 
lines of what can be seen and enjoyed in 
swinging- round the circle from Quebec to 
Quebec. 



WHERE ''A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE 
WAS WRITTEN. 

On the way down the Saguenay, Cook (I'd 
call him " Mr." but Cook's not that sort, he's too 
good a fellow to Mister) and I were talking of 
Wm. Dean Howell's beautiful story, *'A Chance 
Acquaintance," which opens with the Saguenay 
River. " Do you know, Rube, where Howell 
wrote that story ?" " No," said I, " but I'm 
always interested to know where books I like 
have been written. Why, do you know ?" 

'' Yes, it was written in 

GALE'S OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. 

"And where is that ?" I asked. 

" What, you wrote a book on Quebec, and 
didn't get it in as one of the sights of the old 
town? Well, you'd better try it over. Why, 
207 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

I've travelled 300,000 miles and have hunted up 
old things in every land under the sun and found 
more relics worth picking up in that shop, than 
I've ever seen in any one place outside a 
museum." One of the others of the Boston 
party told me that this C. S. Cook had possibly 
travelled more than any other one American, and 
that his beautiful home was filled with rare 
curios, that he had picked up from Kamskatka 
to the South Sea Islands, and all the places 
between. When I got back to Quebec I went 
to see the Old Curiosity Shop, and in my revision 
of " Points of Interest," you'll find added one 
point at least you should not miss. It's worth 
going through just to see what odd things, and 
many can be collected under one roof, and there 
in the corner Gale will show you where ''A 
Chance Acquaintance " was '' made." 



208 



The Yankee in Quebec, 




Said I to myself said I : 

" Rube, which one hit you ? " 

"What, do I look like a substitute hit by one Shamrock ? 



209 



The Yankee in Quebec. 



QUEBEC TEAM INVITES RUBE TO 

PLAY LACROSSE, WITH BAD 

RESULTS TO RUBE. 

I told you before all about the easy '' basket- 
ball-at-a-female-college " way that football is 
played in Quebec. I don't know whether the 
boys resented my description of their game on 
that occasion or if it was their sociable good 
nature in always trying to make it pleasant for 
the sojourning stranger; but be that as it may. 
I was the stranger and they took me in. They 
said they had another game which they played 
when it wasn't so warm. They didn't say what 
" it " they meant. It couldn't certainly have 
been the game itself, for a " warmer " game than 
lacrosse I've never seen, and I think I have 
helped play them all from marbles to rock fights. 
Yes, they took me in. They said they needed 
a substitute for one of their boys, who wasn't 
feeling well since their last game. They didn't, 
at the time, tell me that he had been in the hospi- 
tal ever since, and was likely to be until Christ- 
mas. No, they merely asked would I act as 
substitute. Now I'm not going to stop here to 
dissertate on substitutes, but will stop long 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

enough to say that if I ever get two invitations 
on the same day to do any substitute acting, one 
for war and the other for lacrosse, I will go to 
war, if either. It's much safer in these days of 
long distance fighting. But, to come to the 
point, I accepted. The game was between the 
Shamrocks, of Montreal, and *' our " Quebec 
team. Now^ I've nothing against Montreal. 
Montreal is a fine city, but I do object to their 
Shamrocks, and with reason. Why, more than 
half the time they mistook me for the ball, and 
used their clubs accordingly. 

At this point in the narrative, said I to myself, 
said I : '' Rube, which one hit you ?" 

** Which one ! Do I look like a substitute 
that had been hit by one Shamrock ? Better ask 
which one didn't. 

That Quinn closed this right eye, just as Doyle 
was trying to knock a ' fly ' ofT my ear, and 
Dillon and Droyer, not to be outdone, left a 
number of places for court plasters, and ban- 
dages, while that sly Fox enlarged my love of 
home, round there on my cerribellum, just as 
Ward landed on the oblongatta back of the other 
ear. Oh, it was awful ! I lost all interest in 
lacrosse, however, when Latimer came down on 
this arm, as McCarrey caught that foot reaching 
for a low ball. Jarratt and Kenny also did their 
share of decorating, while I'll never forgive 

213 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Hussey, as he was as active on this ' substitute ' 
as were McChnchey or Hennessy, Nozv will you 
ask which one hit me ? It would have been as 
easy to tell ' who struck Billy Patterson ' as who 
struck this ' substitute.' " 

I never knew before that I had so many avail- 
able places to hit, and I've never seen an instru- 
ment of torture so well designed to find those 
places readily as the club used in playing 
lacrosse. You see, they can hit so many places 
at once, and in the hands of players of the Sham- 
rock type they cover the ground often. 

The Shamrocks are certainly most skilful in 
the use of their clubs. I don't mean by this that 
their skill is confined to the ball used in the 
game — for that matter they seemed to have very 
little to do with the ball except to follow it 
around and watch us throw it through their 
wicket. I wish I could tell you about this game, 
but I can't. I was too busy with other matters ; 
besides, it wasn't still long enough to descriDe. 
It's an Indian game, sort of a cross between the 
war dance and running the gauntlet. This latter 
game, you know, was where if the player came 
out alive he had won, and if he was killed they 
danced at his wake, and there you are. I came 
out alive, 'tis true, but I've not yet found out if 
I won, and I don't propose to try, neither do I 
propose ever again to play lacrosse, especially if 

214 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

the Shamrocks, of Montreal, are on the other 
side — their striking is too promiscuous. No, I 
shall never play that Indian game again. I'd 
rather die of old age. It may be more lingering, 
but I prefer it. 



>j» 



215 




I 

H 
H 

O 

o 
o 

pa 



The Yankee in Quebec. 



MUSICAL QUEBEC. 

I have spoken of Joseph Vezina in connection 
with the musical features of Quebec. I find that 
the old capital can well take a pride in what it is 
giving to the world in this hne. Few cities, 
ancient or modern, have produced musicians 
beyond mediocre, and what I have here to say 
goes beyond a local interest. It is said that 
what interests New York City interests the 
world. That city offered a large prize to the 
best child pianist. Berthe Roy, 12 years old, of 
Quebec, took it, over 800 competitors, and 
to-day is there at the National Conservatory of 
Music. At the Pan-American, at Buffalo, high 
honors were paid to a boy organist, that boy is 
H. Gagnon, of Quebec. One day a man met me 
on the street and said, '' I would like you to hear 
my boy play." I nerved myself up to a point 
where I could stand being bored, and went to 
hear him. To my great surprise I had gone to 
219 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

hear a genius, Fearing lest my musical know- 
ledge had been too meagre to judge, I asked my 
friend Edward Thurnau, who had managed 
Joseph Hoffman on one of his American tours, 
and for years had had charge of the Thomas Or- 
chestra, in Chicago, to go with me, to hear the 
child — as that he is, and small — I was right. 
Thurnau pronounced him a wonder ! 

Will Quebec, for the pride of city, give to the 
world this genius ? Oh, how easy for the city 
to do that for which it will one day be proud of 
having done! Make it possible for the develop- 
ment of this genius. A concert would start the 
fund and there is talent at home to give one, and 
thus all could feel that they had helped — I beg 
not for the child — I beg only for the world, for it 
is due the world that this genius should be given 
it. Quebec, will you give to the world this child 
genius ? You gave to New York City its 
greatest photographer — Sarony — give us a 
photographer's son — Remi Wilfred Beaudry. 

If I were wealthy how I would like to help 
such as he. I'd a thousand times prefer it to 
putting up the " second story and spire " of some 
rich church, even if they'd place my name 
in brass in the vestibule, where everybody might 
see it as they passed. It would be a more endur- 
ing pleasure and not half so conspicuous. 



The Yankee in Quebec. 



When I told 

COMMODORE J. U. GREGORY, 

of my Moose Hunt, he seemed to think it his 
duty to even things up a bit. " Never mind, 
Rube, you come up to dinner to-morrow, and 
you will find what moose steak is Hke. My friend 
Colonel Chas. H. Raymond, of New York City, 
and Dudley Olcott, of Albany, were down in the 
Restigouche country and shot three moose. They 
sent me a ' quarter.' " Now, I was like the 
chaplains in the army, while they told the boys 
how very wicked it was to steal chickens, they 
seldom refused '' chicken," and I didn't refuse 
moose, when next day the Commodore gave me 
the third '' helping " — Don't know how much 
longer I'd have kept on if the moose hadn't given 
out first. I merely tell you this to let you know 
how well I liked moose. But speaking of the 
Commodore, while he does not rank himself 
among the Quebec literati, he has a ready pen 
and a yet more ready wit. He has written quite 
largely on fishing and hunting, and, unlike many 
who write on those subjects, has done much in 
both sports, as the walls of his office hung by 

221 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

many a trophy of rod and gun bespeak. His 
exhibit of fishes at an Exposition in London 
won a gold medal and i,ooo dollar prize for the 
best mounted specimens of fish. The .Commo- 
dore has fished and hunted from Labrador to 
Florida, and by the way has picked up enough 
for a dozen volumes of entertainment. He has 
furthermore often figured in the story of others. 
You will find him often mentioned in one or the 
other of LeMoine's works, especially in the 
" Legends of the St. Lawrence," where he is a 
prominent figure, also in '' The Chronicles of the 
St. Lawrence." I have spoken elsewhere of the 
Commodore being the President of the Tourilli 
Fish and Game Club, in the list of membership 
of which I find many prominent and familiar 
names: George M. Fairchilds, Cap Rouge ; 
S. L. Husted, Col. Chas. H. Raymond, E. D. 
Bushnell, Geo. B. Post, Ed. Van Ingen 
and many others, of New York City. Mayor 
Carter H. Harrison, and Alfred B. Cowles, of 
Chicago, 111. In fact, from Winslow Homer, 
of Scarboro, Maine., to W. I. De Renne, Savannah, 
Georgia. Its secretary is Capt. Geo. Van Fel- 
son,^»-everybody's friend — of Quebec. 

We often wonder how it is that we find the 
same good story told in many lands. It is 
carried by the Gregorys of travel. I never heard 



222 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

THE EGG FLIP STORY OR THE BOY 
WHO CAME DOWN TO DICKER, 

told so well as the Commodore can tell it. 
" What, you never heard it ? Want to hear it ?" 
Of course I can't tell it like he did, for it's a toss 
up between him and " Chauncey" when it comes 
to story telling as is story telling. I surprised 
the Commodore, however, when he had finished, 
by telling him that I knew the original of the 
story. Yes, I knew Gus well. I'd give you his 
other name, but, Gus is larger than I, and we 
may some time meet and Gus is not to be trifled 
with when it comes to that episode in his life. 
Gus wasn't always the pink of perfection in dress 
and courtly manner that you find him to-day. 
Ah no, he was once as " green" and gawky as 
any of us country boys. He lived out near Lee 
Town, west of Charlestown, West Virginia. 
Charlestown, you remember, was where Old 
John Brown was tried for treason and hung. 
Some said to a sour apple tree; but not so, even 
if relic hunters did carry away piece by piece an 
apple tree that grew near by where the scaffold 
was built, until when I lived there one year in 
the eightys, these hunters were at work on the 
little stump left to tell where once the tree stood. 
But then about Gus. One day Gus went down 
to Cochrane'^ store in Harper's Ferry, some 
223 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
twelve miles away, to " dicker," He slipped in 
easy like and simply " stood round " until Old 
Cochrane, a little man nearly as broad as he was 
long, got through waiting on all the other custo- 
mers, then coming up to Gus, said, "Well, my 
young man, what can I do for you ?' 

" Wall, I reckon, I reckon you dicker down 
here at this ere store, don't cher ?" 

*^ Yes, occasionally, what have you to dicker 
this morning ?" 

" Wull, I reckon, I reckon, Fve got an aig." 

" Yes, and what do you 'reckon' you want for 
your *aig'?" 

Gus stood on one bare foot and toyed with it, 
with the other foot which was loose and wasn't 
doing much except " toy " during the dickering. 
" Wull, I reckon — " then he stopped to take in 
the whole situation, lest he make a mistake in 
his choice. " Say, storekeeper, I reckon you 
can give me a darn needle for Granny." 

The needle was '' dickered " for the '' aig," 
but Gus still stood round. 

" Is there anything more I can do for you ?" 

" Say mister storekeeper, see here, when a fel- 
low comes to your store for the very first time in 
his life to dicker, don't you treat ?" 

" In your case, yes. What will you have ?" 

" Well, I reckon I'll take an " aig flip." Gus 

was sure that Cochrane had at least one '' aig." 

" How do you make an egg flip?" 
224 



The Yankee in Quebec. 



READ 

'MY FRifNJD 
B i L L " 




" What, deon't cher know heow to make an 
aig flip ? WuU you air green. Why, yo take 

an aig, a fresh aig, and put it into a tumbler — 
a large tumbler — put in water, a very leetle water, 



225 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

and then fill up the tumbler with rye — an' the 
older the rye the better the flip, and then you 
shake it up with a spune, an' you've got a 
beveridge as is a beveridge." 

The flip was made with Gus's " aig," he 
watching that too much water didn't get into it 
to weaken it. When he had finished it and said 
a long drawn out, contented "Ah, that wus 
good!" with a pleased shake of the head, he 
looked at Old Cochrane and said : *' Say, Mr. 
Storekeeper, I reckon you owe me another darn 
needle fur Granny." 

" How do you make that out ?" 

" Why, you're not blind air you ? didn't you 
you notis', didn't you notis' that that air aig was 
a dubble yelker? Yes, it wus, an' I want the 
other needle " — and he got it. 



O' 



t.^3^ 



C^^ 



<:>- 



226 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
HOME FOLKS. 
It's always a pleasure to meet " home folks," 
when away in another country — if not for them- 
selves — for the memories of home they bring to 
mind; but when combined, it is a pleasure indeed! 
This was the double delight I felt on meeting, 
one day, Albert H. Vernam, broker, banker, 
philanthropist, of New York City and Morristown, 
NJ., who, with his charming wife, was visiting 
Quebec and its environs for the first time. It is 
a rare joy to meet a man whose success in life has 
been so great that we instinctively think of 
Aladin, and yet find untouched those qualities 
we so much admire in man. We too often find 
wealth crushing out of the heart all the sweeter 
things of life, leaving naught but sordid love of 
gain. I have watched the growth of wealth, seen 
the cheery, light hearted boy changed by it into 
a simple coin machine, have seen those sweet 
qualities I once loved, turn into qualities so 
vastly different that the only pleasure of the 
meetings in after years, was that felt in getting 
out of his presence. With Albert H. Vernam 
wealth is but a means. It has but strengthened 
the human in his heart and not crushed it out. 
His presence is sunshine, and is never shunned 
by the friends of other days. Mr. Vernam is 
much like my travelled friend, C. S. Cook, genial 
and companionable. Both he and Mrs. Vernam 
were greatly pleased with Quebec. 
227 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
THE LADIES OF QUEBEC. 

'' Rube," said the Colonel, one day, after 
reading the first edition. '' I notice yon have 
much to say about the men of Quebec, and but 
little about the ladies. Weren't you pleased 
with them ?" 

'' Pleased?" said I— "Pleased! Why, Colonel, 
I didn't dare to begin a mention of them, in so 
small a book. I'd have been credited with writ- 
ing a city directory before I got through with 
it. No, Colonel, I didn't dare begin to speak of 
the ladies of Quebec." 

That reminds me of one day the Colonel was 
asked by a lady how he liked Quebec. '' Very 
well, very well, indeed. I'm like my friend, 
Rube, here, he says he always closes his eyes 
when he sees anthing he don't like !" " Why, 
Colonel," said she, " I've never seen you close 
your eyes." *'And you never will !" The 
Colonel is so gallant. 



228 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
RUBE GOES TO MONTREAL. 

I wanted to see the St. Lawrence river by day- 
light. I wanted to go by the Beaver Line of the 
Elder Dempster and Co., but found it did not 
carry passengers between Quebec and Montreal, 
excepting those going to and from Europe, so I 
had either to go as freight or as the guest of the 
Captain, but when I found that the Lake 
Megantic's captain was Charlie Thompson, I 
chose to go as his guest and a fine host he is, 
too. There were on board a large number of 
tourists returning from Europe, as well as many 
coming to America for the first time. 

This is becoming a favorite line for American 
tourists going to and from Europe, they come 
to Montreal, see Canada, then take one of these 
magnificent palace steamers either at Montreal 
or Quebec, float down the beautiful St. Lawrence 
for 800 miles, ever in sight of land. It is pleas- 
ant sailing, smooth and comfortable, and saves 
nearly i,003 miles of a tedious ocean voyage. 
If the tourist have not the time to see Canada, he 
can leave New York in the morning over the 
New York Central, reach Montreal in the even- 
ing, go on board at once, and sail away in the 
morning, or, from the West, Montreal is reached 
by the Canadian Pacific, the Grand Trunk or by 
boat through the Thousand Islands, by one of 

229 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

the Richelieu and Ontario Navigation Com- 
pany's boats, through scenery unsurpassed 
for beauty, making this the most direct, 
as well as the most delightful route of 
ocean travel. I noted particularly the difference 
in size of the state rooms between the Beaver and 
many of the other ocean going lines. Why, the 
room I had was as large and comfortable as a 
room in a hotel, and not, as too often, a cramped 
box to sleep in. We are too apt to think that 
what we have at home is all there is. Now just 
see what a great line of steamers I found up here 
that many of you never heard of, 

One hundred and twenty-six steamers. 

and many of them veritable floating palaces. It's 
head is the man known as the Napoleon of the 
shipping world. Sir A. L. Jones, knighted by 
King Edward the Seventh, on the occasion of 
his (the King's) birthday, November ninth, 1901, 
He has proven that, not only in America, but in 
Conservative England, can a man, by his own 
efforts, climb from the bottom to the top. Under 
his guidance the Elder, Dempster Line has been 
brought up to the proud position of flying the 
British flag over a larger fleet of merchantmen 
than any other in England, and yet their busi- 
ness is so great that often additional vessels have 
to be chartered to meet the demands on them. 
230 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

A.S I've said before, one of the 
pleasures of travel is the people one meets. 
Principal Grant, who was made a C. M. G. by 
ithe Duke of Cornwall and York, was on board, 
returning home from England. Through our 
mutual friend. Rev. Mr. Love, of Quebec, I had 
the pleasure of meeting this noted instructor, and 
found him in every way a most charming man, 
well worthy his recent honor. 

I also met a man who knew even less of geo- 
graphy than I do myself. He was just arriving 
in the country for the first time. 

He knew less than Rube, 

As we were coming into Lake St. Peter, a 
large widening of the St. Lawrence into a lake, 
this man came up to me with, " Excuse me, I beg 
youah pahdon, but kindly tell me, will youah, 
what, ah, lake is this ?" 

" Lake St. Peter," I answered. " Ah, thank 
you !" and I lost him for a half hour. At the 
end of which time he left a friend and came to 
me again. *' Pahdon me again, but what, ah, 
lake did you say this was ?" 

''Lake St. Peter." 

'' Ah, I have been mistaken, I have, ah, just 
told my friend heah that it was, ah. Lake 
Superiah," 

231 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
Little Dorathy and " the other fellow." 

Little Miss D(jrf>lliy (iilharc, of Mfjiitrcal, 
wlicji we came to those jjuoys that mark the 
channel, excitedly asked, '' Oh, mania, see that 
barrel out there, what is it doing there ?" 

" 'J'hat isn't a barrel darling, that is a buoy." 

"All!" cont(mted with the answer. 

In a few minutes we came to another, when 
Dorothy exclaimed. " Oh, mamma, sec, look 
cjnick ! There's another fellow !" 

l>)orothy was a great pet with everybody — one 
of those dear little children that you want to get 
hold of and love. 

'i^iis was my first visit tf> Montreal, a city that 
reminded nic at once of Indianapolis, Indiana. 
Don'l know why, but it did. 

Rube gets lost again, 

lis street system is wrong, though, and unlike 
the perfect one of that other city. I got lost 
several times. " No, 1 don't mean that way !" 
A fellow here who wasn't elected the last time he 
ran, just asked me what I thought of the streets, 
anyhow — ^I told him some of them were very fine. 
" No, ])ut the others ?" he was one of those per- 
sistent fellows you've met, "are they as good as 
Illinois roads ?" Say, that fellow had never 
been to Illinois, I remember once while visiting 
232 



Tlic Yankee in Quebec. 

Uncle Cornelius, near Springfield, of a poor 
fellow coniiiii;- up the road on the fenee. lie 
wanted uncle to bring down horses and pull hiiu 
out, said he was stuck with a iouv horse team. 
Uncle's dyspepsia was worse that day tlian usual 
and he was a little crahhit." Why don't you unload 
and pull out yourself?" '' That's the truhble, I 
eain't, I've got an enii)ty wagon." " Heard that 
story before, eh ? well, 1 don't doubt it — for this 
is not the first time I told it. You may have 
heard me the other time." ^ I>nt to go back, as I 
said — 1 got lost several times. I'd be walking 
along one street and without making a turn I'd 
be on another, then I'd nsk a policcMnan "Where 
am I at ?" and he'd answer in good New York 
"accint," " Ye're aim the saim wan ony its 
different." 'fhcMi I'd go on and get lost again. 
You sec, it's this way, Montreal had just so many 
names to use for street purposes, and not having 
enough streets for the names, slie began the 
naming, and wlien the streets gave out, she went 
back over the ground, and gave the unused 
names a place at one end or another or in the 
middle of an already named thoroughfare imtil 
all the names were utilized. It's all right when 
you find out, but unhandy for the stranger. 
Why, start north on St. Peter and you'll run into 
and through Bleary to and through Park avenup 

* This was written before I had seen all the Montreal streets. 
^233 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

before you get through the city. For instance 
again, you may be walking along Bon Secouri 
street (the translation of which is *' Good 
Succor") enjoying life and feeling at peace with 
most of the world, until you have crossed Craig 
street, and gone a block or two, when all at once 
you look up and see on the side of a house a 
name that makes you stop and in surprise 
exclaim : ^' Why — 

'< Your name's Denis," 

I never knew before where this expression came 
from as applied to a sudden change of name; but it's 
right in Montreal, and, oh, how appropriately 
it fits in, too. As see this moral. If in your 
nature you are inclined to be like the first street, 
sooner or later you will cross " Craig," when 
your name will quickly change to *^ Denis." 

Rube stops at the Hall, 

I asked General Henry for a good hotel to stop 
at in Montreal. ''■ Rube," said he, '' they are all 
good, but I've stopped for twenty-five years at 
St. Lawrence Hall, and Hogan has treated me so 
well in all that time that I will possibly never 
change. If you go there don't fail tO' go to Matt's 
table. Tell him I sent you and he will treat you 
right." I went there, and at dinner I told Matt 
what the General had said. *' Was I th^ Gineral's 

234 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

frind? Ah me !" Matt didn't wait lor the order, 
he brought all on the bill of fare, and I could 
wager he had some extras added. Matt's a 
character, 22 years a soldier in the Queen's 
army, and 20 years at the St. Lawrence Hall. 
Everybody seems to know Matt, and all like him 
for his ready Irish wit. He was in India during 
the mutiny. He was at Delhi, Lucknow, and 
all the important engagements of that campaign. 
Matt is rich, or should be. He has the finest 
herd of 

'' Irish Bulls," 

I've ever run across. One day Lord Stevenson's 
brother Willie wanted some tea, toast and green 
corn, a little late for lunch. Matt took the order, 
but soon came back with: ''Ah me, Mr. Stevenson, 
the hat water is too cald fur lay, the grane 
corn is too ripe, but the frish brid is sthale, just 
right for the toast. WuU I bring ye a glahs of 
swate milk wid it ?" 

*' Yes, Matt, if it's not too sour." 

Go to the St. Lawrence and tell Matt that you 
are the ''Gineral's frind," and you'll not forget 
your stay at the Hall. 

I returned to Quebec by the 

CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILROAD, 

Say, if ever you get the opportunity, take this 
road. It runs from Quebec clear across the 
235 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Continent — it's all right. Did I tell you about the 
Royal train that carried the Duke and Duchess 
of Cornwall and York on their trip across to 
Vancouver ? '' No?" well it was the finest one 
I ever saw, 

Palace on Wheels, 

Well, I guess that would fit, but I've seen few 
palaces more beautifully appointed than was this 
Royal train. It had every luxury, why, think of 
it, it even had a telephone system of its own — 
wonderful train ! It was built throughout by 
this railroad. It would be a big surprise to the 
Mother Country if she could see the vast 
achievements of the up-to-date railroading of 
this young daughter of hers. 



Rube at the Queen's, 

" While in Montreal," said the Colonel, " I 
want you to go down to the Queen's Hotel, just 
across the street from the Grand Trunk-New 
York Central station, corner of St. James and 
Peel streets. It's kept by Fuchs and Raymond. 
George Fuchs was a Quebec boy. I never knew 
him here, but met him often in Montreal. You 
know whenever the Quebec ball teams go dver, 
they always stop at the Queen's unless it is so 
crowded that they can't get in. 
236 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

'^ Did I ever tell you about the elder Fuchs — 
George's father ? * No ?' Well, he was ' all 
good/ as they say. He came to Quebec from 
Alsace-Loraine many, very many years ago, at 
a time when there was no French Consul in the 
town. He must have been a ' good angel,' to 
many a fellow countryman. His house was ever 
open to the needy." A French paper, speaking 
of Jacques Fuchs, said of him at his death, as 
nearly as I can translate it — and I give it as an 
old-time Quebec character worthy of mention, 
and to show the heart of this people in the middle 
of the last century. " A modest man has disap- 
peared. He had only his heart — this one — but 
it was a firm heart, as have all who come from 
Alsace-Loraine. There was no French Consul 
in those old days, and Jacques looked after his 
people. He was all over, helping the poor, 
giving consolation to the needful, helping the 
proud in poor circumstances, with the utmost 
delicacy, without doubting in his French faith, 
what he was doing for the old home. He loved 
everyone who came from France, and protected 
them in his own way. In front of this Small of 
the Earth, this Big in the front of God, we are 
permitted to shout to la Patrie, Vive La France." 

The writer of this beautiful tribute (and in 
French it is beautiful) was Faucher de St. 
Maurice. He was one of Quebec's noted 

237 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

writers, but like the man of whom he wrote, he, 
too, is dead. There is to me a rare fascination 
in the Hfe of a man of heart, be he peasant or 
king. It is not the position, but the character, I 
love — -the man and not the title. 

I flattered myself that the good entertainment 
I received at the Queen's was because the Colonel 
had sent me, or that it was because I had said 
nice truths about George's old town; but I soon 
found that it was the same nice treatment 
given every guest. I saw then why the Queen's 
was such a favorite with my home people. 



RUBE MAY WRITE ANOTHER LETTER, 

T may tell you more some time of Montreal, 
but not now. Montreal is a rich field, and I am 
certain I can find much of interest for you to 
listen to. In the meantime look at your map 
and see that it is on an island and has a mountain 
all to itself. I didn't know of either, and I'll 
wager you didn't know it yourself, smart as you 
are about the great cities of America. There 
are a great many things in Canada that neither 

238 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

of us know about; but now that IVe gotten 
started, I'm going to find them out, and have a 
good time, too, while doing the finding. I'm in 
love with the Dominion, and I want you to know 
her. I want you to tell our law makers that they 
are making one grand mistake in keeping up the 
bars so high that this growing neighbor cannot 
go over to "dicker" with our corner grocery 
store. Somehow they don't get the right appre- 
ciation of this neighbor. She's got ever ^ so 
much that we want and need, and would bring 
it over, besides taking a large pocket full of 
money with her to pay " to boot," if they'd only 
let her in without fining her so high for coming. 
She has to go away across the ocean to her 
mother's store to trade for what she'd buy just 
over the line if we gave her a chance to come. 
She does lots of trading, by the way, more than 
you think for, more than we do ourselves count- 
ing our size. We do $28 per capita, while she 
does $76 per capita. This year she's going to 
do $400,000,000 worth and that's why I say our 
law makers make a grand mistake not to cuUi- 
vate her trade. As she buys of us far more than 
we do of her it would be on our side, and good 
business policy, too. We will some time have 
what they call reciprocity, and my eyes, the 
'' dickering" that will go on when that time 
comes ! 

^39 



The Yankee in Quebec. 




** Not this morning Uncle ! " 

Uncle Sam: — " Good mornin' Miss Canada !" 
Miss Canada : — ^' Good mornin' Uncle Samuel !" 
U.S.: — "Which way this mornin' ?" 
Miss C. : — '' Goin' over ter Mother's store ter 

dicker !" 
U.S.: — ''Why not come over ter my store, I've 

a big stock, and will sell it right ?" 
Miss C: — ''Uncle, don't yer know I'd like ter 

ever so much, but I've had a leetle touch 
L240 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

o' rumatiz o' late, and I can't somehow 
climb like I used ter. Don't believe I 
want ter try ter git over them air high 
high bars this mornin'— Good morn- 



m' 



U.S.:— ''Hold on, Miss Canada— what yer want 

fer that air horse, yer leadin' ?" 
]^iss C. :— '' Told me at home ter ask $20, and fi 
couldn't git that, ter take $15. What'll 
yer gi'me ?" 

U.S.: '' $12.50 if yer bring him on this side ther 

fence !" 
Miss C.:— " Come an' git him, an' yer may have 

him !" 
U.S.—'' No, bring him over 1" 
Miss C.:— '^ AH right "—but just then Miss Can- 
ada saw something ou that top bar and 
hesitated, "No, Uncle— I must hev 
$42.50 fer this steed, horses has riz ! 
Say, Uncle, by the way, don't yer think 
you an' me could do better if our line 
fence wa'n't so high ?" 

U.S.: "Why, my dear Miss Canada, there's a 

whole slew o' places whar thar ain't 
no fence at all. Jist look up thar whar 
that hired man o' yourn is haulin' that 
big load o' stuff thru. See he's got 
on — Postage Stamps, Fortified Lime 
Juice, Fossils, Frankfurters, Balm o' 

241 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

Gilead, Gold Coin, Old Junk, Mezuz- 
oths, Lycopodiums, Ostensoriums, Or- 
thotoluidius, Pozzolani. Yes, he's 
goin' thru, an' he don't even hev to pay 
a cent o' toll, either." 
Miss C: — " Yer ferget. Uncle, that day I came 
down with a load, what yer charged me 
ter git over. There wus a fence that 
day. Uncle ! Why, I had to pay 60 
percent of the value of them artificial 
* §"00 goos ' I tried ter make at yer, 
and the same percent fer thet jewellery 
and arctic shoes and nearly everything 
I had on. Why, you made me pay 30 
percent fer that Zeinthaerine, 35 percent 
fer that Xylotile, and 25 percent fer that 
Zinnsare, and the same fer the Ylang- 

ylang oil " ^' But nothing fer that 

Xeintharine powder," broke in Uncle 
Sam, and there they stood fer an hour. 
Uncle Sam throwing up to her the 
things that he let her bring in free, most 
of which were raised or made in some 
other country, and she throwing up to 
Uncle Sam what he charged her fer 
what she raised or made at home. She 
finally drove on towards mother's store, 
tantalizingly shaking a large pocket 
book full of " to boot " money at Uncle 

242 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

— who walked down street in a deep 
study, saying to himself, " I must see 
about gittin' her trade. It's gittin' too 
big to lose. I reckon them bars are a 
leetle high." 



I want you to know this great Dominion — in 
size but little less in extent than our own 
country — including Alaska — and much larger 
than the United States not counting that land 
of gold. 

Canada is a land of beautiful mountains, 
lakes and rivers. Its people, manners and cus- 
toms are too little known even across the 
border. All of these have so charmed me, and 
filled my heart so full of love for the Canadian 
and his country, that I would have all the world 
know wnat real pleasure is lost in not seeing 
and knowing them as I have known them. I 
can only faintly draw the picture and ask you to 
come to see the reality — the reality is pleasing. 



243 



SOUVENIR 

to 

HIS MAJESTY'S SHIPS. 

OPHIR.— Picture. 

CRESCENT.— Picture. 

PALLAS.— Picture. 

PSYCHE. 

PROSERPINE.— Picture. 



/ 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
HIS MAJESTY'S SHIPS. 

When I saw the officers and men of the 
various ships in the harbor, during the Duke and 
Duchess' visit, come ashore, I said to the Colonel 
*' I'm going to get out souvenir editions for these 
ships. Something that will ever commemorate 
the occasion." " What can you say ?" he asked. 
" Well, now. Colonel," said I, " I could write 
another book on 'The Boys of the King's 
Navee/ and it would be a good one, too, if the 
subject had anything to do with the writing of it, 
for really. Colonel, you must admit that a finer 
lot of men you've never seen under any flag." 
You see our first impression of these men of 
many seas was on Sunday morning, when they 
were on their way to the various churches 
throughout the city. " Wait till the boys get 
their ' land legs,' " said the Colonel, " and your 
comment may not be so favorable." I waited, 
and having come in contact with both officers and 
men, I am even more pleased with them than 
when on their way to church. 

The Colonel is too much given to taking the 
other side of things, and often quite tries my 
patience. When he said, " Oh, of course, your 
souvenir number will be all commendation," I 
soon made him retract the implied criticism, 
when I asked him to point out a thing said in the 

first edition that I did not think and feel was 
249 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

true when I wrote it, and again when I showed 
him the blue pencil mark across certain bits of 
commendation that I had been pleased to cross 
out for various reasons, (often simply, however, 
because I felt that the commended had not appre- 
ciated my intention), he could not but admit mv 
honesty of expression, if nothing more. 

At this time there were in the harbor four 
ships, others came with the Ophir, which 
brought the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and 
York. 

These four ships were : The Crescent — the flag- 
ship — Psyche (a picture of which I failed to pro- 
cure, and which I greatly regret), the Prosephine 
and the Pallas. I'm much like the infidel on the 
ocean steamer, who had been having a long argu- 
ment with a Baptist, when a storm came on. In 
the midst of the hurricane the infidel was heard 
praying most desperately, when the Baptist calm- 
ly said : " Why brother, I thought you didn't 
believe in anything of that sort ?" '' Yes, yes, 
I know — this belief of mine is all right on land, 

but it's not worth a on water." Same here. 

Now, if I'd try to tell you what pretty things these 
ships were, I'd spoil it sure, so will let you see 
for yourself by their pictures. 

These ships were manned — I guess that's cor- 
rect — or officered and manned — at any rate they 
were well somethinged by a fine lot of men. If 

250 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

I don't get them in their correct order it will be 
no lack of good intention. By courtesy, of 
course. I will head the list with 



THE OPHIR, 

6,910 tons. I.H.P. 10,000. Particular Service, 
2nd Class. Captain Alfred L. Winslow, M.V.O., 
Commodore. Secy., Walter Cask. Com- 
mander — Rosslyn E. Wemyss (N) Philip Nelson- 
Ward. Lieut. Wm. G. E. Ruck-Keene, Lieut. 
Reginald A. Norton, Lieut. Hon. Herbert 
Meade, Lieut. Coventry M. Crichton Maitland, 
Lieut. Hon. Gerald M. A. J. Hay, Lieut. Gerald 
A. Wells (in lieu of Sub-Lieut.), Lieut Major 
R. M. Chas. Clarke, Lieut. R. M. A. Geo. L. 
Raikes, Lieut. R. M. Henry H. F. Stockley. 
Chaplain— Rev. Hugh S. Wood, M.A. Staff 
Surgeon — Hugh W. Macnamara. Staff Pay- 
master, Edw. D. Hadley. Sub-Lieut. John H.. 
Bainbridge, Sub. -Lieut. John B. Waterlow, Sub- 
Lieut. Gerald L. Saurin. Surgeon — Robt. Hill. 
Ast. Paymaster — Grenville A. Miller. Senior 
Engineer, R.N.R. — George Gray. Engineer — 
Sydney M. G. Bryer. Gunner (T)— Alfred Tur- 
ton. Boatswain — John Paddon. (S) Matthew 
Allen. Carpenter — Wm. Banbury. Bandmas- 
ter, R.M.— John Wright. 



2^3 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

CRESCENT. 

Twin Screw Cruiser, ist Class. 7,700 tons. 
I.H.P. 10,000 N.D. (12,000 F.D.) — Flagship. 
North American and West Indies Station. 

Officers : 

Vice Admiral Sir Frederick G. D. Bedford, 
K.C.B. Flag- Lieut. — Philip Stretford, Secretary, 
— Charles E. Byron. Clerks to Secy. — Edgar. 
M. White, Arthur E. E. Fluder. Captain— 
Hon. Stanley C. J. Colville, C.B. Commander — 
Henry H. Campbell, (N) Owen F. Gillett. 
Lieutenants — (T) Skipworth, (G) Henry R. 
Veale, Reginald L. Crichton, Lockhart Leith, 
Leslie J. L. Hammond, Eric J. A. Fullerton, 
Francis A. Marten. Maj., R.M. A.— Alfred Or- 
ford. Lieut., R.M. — John G. Home, Chaplain 
—Rev. William H. H. Royse, B.A. Fleet 
Surgeon — William E. Bennett. Fleet Paymas- 
ter — Henry Dawson. Fleet Engineer — John G. 
Stevens. Naval Inst. — Richard H. Whapham, 
M.A. Sub-Lieut. — Longuet M. Darbyshire. 
Surgeons — Ernest A. Penfold, M.B., John 
Boyan. Assist. Paym. — Harold J. D. Spriggs. 
Clerk — Eustace R. Berne. Engineer — William 
H. Pratt. Asst. Eng's. — William R. Mew, John 
F. Bell, Henry B. O'Dougherty. Gunner (T) — 
Richard S .C. Staddon, Henry F. Carter. Boat- 
swains — Charles S. Cassidy, William Staples. 

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The Yankee in Quebec. 

Carpenter — Richard E. Peek. Midshipmen — 
Arthur Rice, Hon Arthur G. Coke, CoHn S. 
IngHs, Richard H. Falkiner, George H. D'O. 
Lyon, George B. Hartford, Henry S. M. Harri- 
son, Julian M. Ogilvie, WaUer N. Lepage, 
Charles H. Michaelson, Ferdinand E. B. Feil- 
mann, Bertram H. Ramsay, John C. F. Borrett, 
Charles F. Cowan, William R. R. Leach, Cun- 
ningham Prior. 

The following officers are borne as additional 
for various reasons : — For Surveying Service — 
StafT-Captain William Tooker. For Halifax 
Yard : — Ch. Engineer — Charles G. Taylor. Ch. 
Carpenter— Robt. Bigham. Boatswain — Joseph 
V. Lutter. 

Tenders — Rocket, Quail. 

H. M. S. PALLAS. 

Twin Screw Cruiser, 3rd Class ; 2,575 tons. 
LH.P., 4,500, N.D.; 7.500, F.D. 

Officers : 

Captain — Hon. Walter G. Stopford. Lieu- 
tenant — Richard G. A. W. Stapleton Cotton, 
Harry C. Sterling, (N) Basil J. Snowdon. Staff 
Surgeon — Johnson M. Acheson, M.D. Pay- 
master — Wm. E. R. Martin. Chief Engineer — 
Chas. B. Leckey. Sub-Lieut. — Claude P. Cham- 

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The Yankee in Quebec. 

pion de Crespigny. Sub-Lieut. R.N.R. — Dick. 
F. T. Bruce. Gunner (T) — Tlios. Walker. Car- 
penter — John Couper. Artif. Eng. — James 
H. D. Nichols. Clerk — Knighton H. Arnold. 

H. M. S. PSYCHE. 

Twin Screw Cruiser, 3rd Class ; 2,135 tons. 
I.H.P., 5,000, N.D.; 7,000, F.D. 

Officers : 

Commander of Psyche (no Captain) — Edmund 
M. C. Cooper-Key, (N) Author S. Cole. Lieu- 
tenant — Loftus C. O. Mansergh. Sub-Lieut. — 
Wm. H. Davis, Staff-Surgeon — Geo. A. 
Waters, M.D. Paymaster — Angus H. Brigstocke. 
Ast. Paymaster — Frederick Hird, Wm. G. How- 
ard. Staff Engineer — Marin Stuart. Ast. 
Engineer — Alfred Evans. Gunner John D. 
Jamieson, Robert E. Reiss-Smith, acting. Car- 
penter — Geo. D. Rowe. 

H. M. S. PROSERPINE. 

Is a Twin Screw Cruiser, of the 3rd class ; 
2,135 tons. I.H.P., 5,000, N.D.; (7,000 F.D.). 
North American and West Indies squadron. 

258 



The Yankee in Quebec. 
Officers : 

Commander — Gerald C. A. Maresceaux. 
Lieutenants — Robert W. F. Travers, (M) Denis 
B. Crampton, Robert Jeffreys, Trueman Thom- 
dick.- Staff-Surgeon — John Lowney. Paymas- 
ter — Edward H. Innes. Chief Engineer — James 
T. Willoughby. Assistant Engineer — Jonathan 
J. Sereech. Assistant Sub-Lieut., R.N.R. — Chas. 
D. Cay. Gunner — Frederick Blackwell. Car- 
penter — Thomas Merriman (B). Ast. Gunner — 
George H. Kerswell. Clerk — Charles M. 
Mieson. 

All these ships may have their Mascots, and 
no doubt have, but none of them are so much in 
evidence as 

THE PET OF THE PROSERPINE. 

The Proserpine has for her " coat of arms," not- 
a lion rampant on a field of blue, but an animal 
said by many to be quite as strong and sometimes 
grows rampant on almost any field. He's a 
whole coat of arms in himself, and might be 
likened to another, or, rather, to the motto of 
another — " Strong by nature, he grows (more 
so) by (too much) industry." Before he was 
captured in the wilds of North London, he led a 
precarious life, and while his little house was on 
the commons, it would hardly be proper to say 
that he was a member of the '' House of Com- 
261 



The Yankee in Quebec. 

mons." To say that a mascot was in business 
would again not be proper, and yet this '' coat of 
arms" did much in '* junk," as well as being a 
member of the paper trade, in which he often 
ran a corner, or anything else that chanced to 
come in his way. That's why it was such an 
easy matter for him to run the Proserpine when 
he left his house on the Commons, and that he 
does have his own way on board ship, no one 
who has seen the love the whole crew have for 
him, win doubt for a minute. It is claimed that 
before he became identified with the Proserpine 
that he served an apprenticeship in certain secret 
societies; but there is nothing but a rumor to 
substantiate this claim, and I pass it over. The 
boys make many other claims for their mascot, 
among which is that their good ship has never 
once been sunk in battle during his reign as a 
mascot; but this also is hardly a valid one, since 
their ship has never yet been in battle. So we'U 
have to pass that over also. I might run on, and 
give the good qualities of this mascot, but few 
there be but know them already, so will desist. 

OfBcers and men of all the ships, I want to tell 
you, in conclusion, that you left many friends in 
Old Quebec, and none who will be more glad to 
meet you in any port of the world than. 
Your Friend, 
THE YANKEE IN QUEBEC. 

262 



By Appoinime7it Furriers to Her Majesty 
Queen Ai^exandra. 

HOLT, RENFREW & CO. 

35-37, Buade Street, Quebec. 

Visitors Should Not Leave 
Quebec Without Seeing . . . 

HOLT, RENFREW & Go's 

MAGNIFICENT DISPLAY OP 

FURS ^j± FUR 
GARMENTS 

Which will be shown with 
pleasure and Without soli- 
citation to purchase. 

Branch : 5 King Street, East, Toronto. 




k 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




017 399 792 9 

Not an unfavorable ci 
made on " The Yankee in Quebec^ 

GEORGE MURRAY, of the Montreal Star, 
says: 

''It sells for 50 Cts and is worth ten 
times as much to any man who can appre* 
ciate genuine humour at its full value/' 

LORD DUFFERIN says much in its praise. 

SENATOR PROCTOR : " I read every word 
with interest." 

- .y/. ■ 

F#Sil]£NT ROOSEVELT pays the author the 
complilb«ttt -of a personal^T|||^r on "The 
Yankee in Quebec/' 



ft is a bo'^k that will hold 
from intr^tetion to finish. ♦ 




attention 



